


Nightstar Beyond

by nightsstarr



Category: Batman Beyond, DC Elseworlds, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU, Canon Compliant, College, F/M, regarding the cartoon not the comics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-23 20:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsstarr/pseuds/nightsstarr
Summary: Terry McGinnis had grown accustomed to his life after graduating high school, doing better with Dana, working by day as Bruce's personal assistant and by night as Batman. When Bruce's granddaughter moved into the Manor for her first semester at Gotham University, he didn't think much would change. Maybe just that Bruce's mood would perk up a little bit.He was very wrong about that.





	1. (Terry)

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been trying to post this story for literal years! I'm excited that I finally have an opportunity to focus on it the way I want to. The plot of this version is totally different than the previous version, so please don't expect something too similar.
> 
> This universe is an AU cherry-picked from my favorite parts of a bunch of different DC universes. Trying to be as compliant to the Batman Beyond cartoon and BTAS as possible. (Except for the few really stupid parts like Bruce dating Babs because honestly, WTF.) I'm honestly mostly disregarding the Batman Beyond comics because in my humble opinion they're a hot mess. I may use some single plot points from them as inspiration but I don't plan on touching them much.

Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Driving down the parkway was a good time to get out of his own head. Taking Dana to the beach and letting her blast her EDM with the moonroof popped on one of Bruce’s cars were his favorite memories from this past summer.

Driving down the parkway with Bruce stewing in the passenger seat and only the whirr of expensive tires on worn road to occupy him was much less enjoyable, but Terry was trying to get what he could out of it. 

“Would you quit making all that noise, McGinnis,” Bruce snapped, startling Terry out of his thoughts. 

“Are you okay, Bruce?” Terry asked, opening the window to let one arm hang over the side. “You seem.. Well, you seem the way you always seem, except much worse.”

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” Bruce shifted his gaze to the side window to sulk.

“Right.” Terry paused. Bruce was obviously not in the mood to talk. But then, he never was. “You know, most grandparents don’t treat picking up their granddaughters like some solemn event.”

“It’s complicated,” Bruce growled, keeping his eyes fixed on the window.

“You gonna tell me her name at least? I’d feel really awkward just calling her ‘hey you’ after driving an hour to pick her up.”

“Her name’s Mary. Not that you’ll need to speak to her much.”

“I’m picking up a little hostility here. Just to remind you, Dana and I are going really strong right now.”

“Don’t try to be funny,” Bruce growled. “I’m not in the mood.”

“First of all, I’m  _ not _ being funny. Girls flip out for this,” Terry said with a flourish to himself. “Maybe you should relax a little bit. She’s just a person.”

“It’s not Mary I’m worried about.”

Terry gripped the wheel tightly. He should’ve figured. Dick Grayson, the first Robin, the only Nightwing. Not on good terms with Bruce. At all. And Mary’s father. Bruce was actually… anxious?

“You’ll get to spend some quality time with her for a while. I know you’ve been looking forward to it.”

“You’ll need to keep away from her.”

“Uh. What? I mean, I really wasn’t kidding before. Things with Dana are--”

Bruce interrupted, not in the mood to listen to Terry a second longer than he needed to. “She doesn’t know about our work. And she’s smart enough to figure it out if she has any clues at all. I don’t trust you not to gum everything up. So when you talk to her, end the conversation as soon as possible”

Terry remained quiet as he navigated the turn off the exit, but when he pulled up to a red light he fixed Bruce with a confused look. “I mean… She’s going to be living with you. I don’t really know how you expect me to avoid her. Every single night.”

“Just act like your normal idiot self and I’m sure she’ll get tired of trying to talk to you.”

“Okay, so I’ll just avoid her  _ and  _ you for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

Terry rolled his eyes and continued to follow his GPS app. Bruce in a bad mood was nothing new, and Terry knew better than to bother him too much.

Bludhaven was a wharf town, and Terry could smell hints of the sea through the open window. The houses were narrow and tall, many on stilts, and several had stones on their lawns instead of grass. The pavement seemed lighter than the pavement in Gotham, flecked with sand and stones from the bay.

The Grayson’s house had a brick facade, with tall steps that led to the second floor. A garden, filled with colorful flowers blooming in front of dense bushes, lined the front of the house and wrapped around the side. It was a nice house--cozy--but not something that Terry would expect of someone directly related to billionaire Bruce Wayne.

Terry hurried to the side of the car to open the door for Bruce. It would be hard on his knees getting up all those stairs, even with his cane. The doorbell chimed a cute, simple tune when Terry rang it, and it was opened quickly by a woman who was taller than Bruce. 

Deep red hair spilled down Mrs. Grayson’s back, and Terry got an accidental faceful of it as she pulled Bruce into a warm hug. 

“Bruce! It’s so nice to see you. Please come in, sit down!” she said, taking the hand that was not holding his cane. 

“Thank you, Kory, but we’re really only going to be a few minutes,” Bruce said, and Terry was mildly surprised to see that he was smiling. It was almost a little scary. 

“And you must be Terry!” 

Terry was not prepared to also be pulled into a hug, and before he could figure out what to do with his arms he was released. “I’m Mrs. Grayson, you can call me Kory.”

“Oh, um… Okay! Great.”

“Kory, you know they’re not staying.” 

Dick Grayson, the first Robin, was standing before them, looking masterfully neutral even though Terry knew he was probably just as tense as Bruce. It was a little odd, after everything that he’d read about and gleaned from Bruce, to see what mostly looked like a regular guy standing in his own living room, in a nice, quiet little neighborhood in a town with a beach in Southern New Jersey. 

“Dick,” Bruce said with a nod. 

“Bruce,” Dick returned, and they grasped each other’s hands in a terse handshake. 

“Grandpa!” a girl’s voice shouted from somewhere else in the house, and Mary Grayson appeared coming up from stairs at the back of the living room. 

She was not quite as tall as her mother, although she was taller than her father. Like her mother, she pulled Bruce into a hug. He placed a hand on top of her head, and Terry almost pinched himself to make sure that he wasn’t imagining things. 

“McGinnis,” she said, and offered him her hand to shake. 

“Uh, yeah.” He took her hand and gave it a shake. “And you’re Mary, right?”

“Yeah. My bags are in my room, if you want to give me a hand.”

Terry shot a sideways glance at Bruce, who gave him a severe look in return. 

“My pleasure,” he said, and she flashed him a smile before heading to the stairs again, presumably toward her room. 

The first level looked more casual than the main floor. A plant that looked too wild for its planter greeted them at the bottom step, and knick knacks like framed kids’ drawings and caricatures of the Grayson family lined the walls.

It looked like a nice place to grow up, Terry thought. The Graysons’ house was much more humble than the Manor in every conceivable way, but it was also so much more homey. Dick may have been on to something, keeping Bruce at arm's length the way he had been.

Mary's room was mostly purple, with one wall painted navy blue. Posters were taped up haphazardly, and above her bed was a letter decal set that read, ‘She needed a hero so that's what she became’.

“Cute,” Terry said, indicating the wall with his chin. 

She made a face at him. “Yeah, yeah, I've had that since I was like, twelve. I was a budding feminist then.”

A pile of suitcases was thrown against her closet door, and to be honest, Terry couldn't imagine what she could possibly need besides some clothes. 

His face must have been easy to read, because Mar’i sounded embarrassed when she said, “Please don’t judge. I wasn’t sure what to bring and I didn’t want to have to run back here for a while.”

“No, it’s great. We’ll move you into one of the bigger guest rooms in the Manor, that’s all.”

“There are small rooms?” she asked as started slinging bags over her shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah. It’s an old house. The rooms are small, the windows are drafty, and all the bathtubs have two faucets. Have fun living there.” Terry joined her in picking up some of her bags. She only left him a few, but she didn’t seem bothered by the burden.

“It can’t be worse than living in a co-ed dorm with thousands of residents.”

“You could just… take the train.”

“The train station in Bludhaven smells like low tide and urine. Try again.”

“Mary,” Bruce said as they appeared at the top of the stairs. “Aren’t all those bags a little heavy?”

“Uh, not rea--” She paused when Bruce raised his eyebrows at her and dropped two of the bags. “Yeah, actually, it’s kind of hurting my shoulder to carry all these. Do you mind?” she asked Terry, and she dropped two of the bags and kept walking toward the door.

_ That _ was definitely suspicious. Terry shot Bruce a questioning look, which he pointedly ignored.

“Bruce, before you go, I just want to speak to you for a minute,” Dick said as Mar’i opened the door.

“Dad! You’re going to embarrass me!”

“It’s fine, Mary,” Bruce said as he stepped into the living room behind her father. 

“Mom,” she said, pleadingly.

Kory gave her a sympathetic look. “Dick, dear, let me join you.”

Mary sighed in relief as she and Terry stepped out onto the porch.

“Seems kind of tense in there,” Terry said conversationally.

“Yeah, my dad can be kind of an ass sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but he’s so overprotective. The last few weeks have really been not so good.”

“I get it,” Terry said as he popped the trunk. Bruce had been in a foul mood for some weeks now. 

“Thanks for helping me carry this stuff. I’m just going to save Grandpa from my dad and say goodbye to my parents.”

“Sure,” Terry said. “I’ll stay out here.”

She smiled at him before turning away to bound up the stairs again.

Dana had texted him a few minutes ago, so he fired back a quick text saying that he would see her tonight.

He leaned against the door of Bruce's car and fished in his pocket for a lighter and a cigarette. Terry's mother always scolded him for smoking, and while Bruce would stare at him in a way that Terry assumed must be disapproving but seemed mostly like his normal expression, he never said a word about it. He probably had the same thought that Terry did, which was that if smoking killed him, he would be lucky.

The Graysons’ house wasn't fancy, and honestly the side of the house could do with a power wash, but compared to the Manor, it looked like a storybook. Mary was leaving her home, and her parents, and her secure, normal life, and she was coming to Gotham to live with Bruce. It seemed innocent, but really, Terry couldn’t imagine how Bruce planned on keeping the Batcave hidden from her. 

Not his problem though.

At least, not yet. Terry was almost sure that Bruce would find a way to  _ make  _ it his problem.

The door opened and Bruce stepped out. Terry could see Mary hugging her mother and then press a kiss to her father’s cheek as he held the door open. She took her grandfather’s arm and helped him down the stairs. Bruce normally hated to be held onto and would normally shoo anyone who tried to help him away with his cane, but with Mary he didn’t seem to mind at all. 

Terry noticed that Dick’s eyes were not on his daughter, but rather on him. His expression was mostly neutral, although his mouth was set in a frown. Whether it was because of the smoking or because he knew that Terry had been moonlighting as Batman for the past two years, he wasn’t sure. Dealing with Dana’s father hadn’t left him completely clueless about dealing with fathers, and one of the things he’d learned was to be respectful without trying too hard.

Terry smiled easily, raised his eyebrows, and threw his cigarette on the ground before crushing it with his heel. Dick raised his eyebrows in reply before Kory nudged him and his attention was once more on his daughter.

What they’d just said to each other, Terry wasn’t exactly sure. But he was pretty sure that things were good between them.

Bruce and Mary had made it down the stairs, and Terry pulled the door open for Bruce. 

“Have some class, McGinnis,” Bruce chided him as he pulled the back door open for Mary.

“Grandpa, if you’re going to be opening car doors for me you’re setting the bar way too high for guys from Gotham.”

“Guys from Gotham aren’t all bad,” Terry protested as Bruce closed the door.

Bruce glared at him before saying into the back seat, “Don’t date any guys from Gotham.”

“What about the girls from Gotham?”

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows at that and Terry could tell he didn’t know what to say.

“They’re all into EDM,” he informed her. “Even the good ones.”

“You don’t have a girlfriend then?” Mary asked as Terry clambered into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“No, I do. I put up with the EDM because I love her.”

“Aw, what a guy,” she said sarcastically.

Before too long, Mary popped in her headphones, and Bruce was completely lost in his thoughts the way he always got when they went on long car rides.

Traffic was pretty good until they hit the Bristol Expressway, which bypassed downtown Gotham by way of a towering bridge and placed them down in the suburbs, where Wayne Manor was located.

“Home sweet home,” Terry announced as they pulled up to the wrought-iron gate bordering the Manor and its expansive property.

A glance in the rearview mirror revealed Mary's thoughts. Her face was aghast, eyes wide as she surveyed the property.

Mrs. Grayson's garden couldn't seem farther away.

The grounds had not been properly maintained since Alfred passed away. The wild grass had several dead patches and was dotted with weeds. The gate swung open for them, creaking as it did so. Good thing it was light out, or this would have seemed like something out of a horror movie.

The driveway led right up to the front steps, where it turned in a circle so the driver could continue back down the long path to the main road. The facade of the Manor wasn’t in the best condition, either. Brickwork on the front of the building was worn and patchy. 

Terry cut the engine and Mary jumped out. Probably excited to be inside a mansion. He could remember when he felt that way about the Manor.

This was turning out to be kind of soul-crushing. It would be good for Bruce to have someone around whose company he actually enjoyed. Seeing Mary disappointed made him feel bad not only for her, but for Bruce.

He popped the trunk and hurried to the back to get her bags. He was used to catering to Bruce’s guests, and at least Mary wasn’t another cranky old man or a rich snob. 

She took two bags while Terry balanced four on one arm. 

At least the foyer looked pretty all right. Vaulted ceilings and tiled walls and floors made the entrance look like a cathedral, although the window above the double doors was so covered in dust that it didn’t let much light in. 

“Terry,” Bruce said as he stood with Mary’s arm wrapped around his. “Why don’t you take her bags upstairs, I’m going to give her a tour.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Terry said. The bedrooms in the Manor had pretty much not been used since everything happened with Tim Drake, and they were all unused and dusty with sun-damaged furniture. 

There was one room, though. Terry wasn’t sure whose it used to be, and all the furniture was definitely old. It was at the end of the hall, kind of far back, but it didn’t look as dark and gloomy as the other rooms because it had three windows. The wallpaper was vintage, pink roses on a gray background with vertical stripes separating them. It was ugly, but in a way that seemed like it was on purpose. 

Terry took the two bags from Mary, who smiled at him before turning her attention back to Bruce. 

“I want to show you my office. I kept all the birthday cards you ever sent me,” he said as he began to lead her down the hall.

When Terry set Mary’s bags down on the bed, a puff of dust blew up in his face. He waved his hand in front of his face to disperse the dust cloud. He hoped this would work out, and not blow up in his face. 

He checked the time. It wasn’t even six o’clock yet, so he still had some time to bring Dana to dinner before he had to be back here. 

“I’ll see you Bruce,” he shouted as pulled the front door closed behind him. 

Whether Bruce heard him or not, he wasn’t sure. It was nice to know that Bruce was having a nice evening with granddaughter rather than just sitting in his office going over some nonsense paperwork.


	2. (Mar'i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling bored and isolated in Gotham, Mar'i heads out for the night. When she returns to the Manor, she gets the surprise of a lifetime.

Mar’i hummed as she nestled the curtain rod on the fixtures she’d drilled into the wall herself. She floated backward to make sure that the curtains were the length.

A knock on her door startled her and she let herself drop to the ground, worried that she’d been caught.

“I asked you not to fly in the house,” Bruce said disapprovingly.

“Well, Terry’s not here, and I _ hate  _ using the ladder. It’s not harming anyone.”

Bruce frowned at her. “Terry’s here a lot. And he can be very quiet.”

“I have super hearing, Grandpa,” she reminded him with a roll of her eyes.

“You didn’t hear me.”

“Yeah, well. I was concentrating.”

“It looks nice in here,” Bruce said after looking around for a moment.

He’d given her some money to decorate the room so she would feel at home. Ordinarily, she would feel weird about taking money she knew she couldn’t pay back, but she figured it was for  _ his  _ house, so she let herself pretend she was on HGTV decorating her dream home, without even worrying about the budget.

Her father would be proud of her. She’d been using power drills and sanding furniture and staining things. She pulled up the old, dingy carpet (with her hands, not that her grandfather would be happy to hear that) and oiled the hardwood underneath. She’d put a throw rug under her bed, one across the room, added a loveseat, a bookshelf, and a shelf for a TV. She’d stripped the wallpaper off three of the walls and painted them lilac. 

Next, she was going to hang some wall decorations, posters, paintings, photos. It was a fun way for her to spend her last week until classes begun.

“You know, there’s a lot of other spaces in this house that need to be spruced up. The kitchen, for example.”

Mar'i cast a quizzical look at him. “What do you you mean?”

“I mean, you did a fantastic job in here. Maybe it's time to redo the rest of the house.”

She chuckled. “I couldn't do that. I don't know anything about decorating, like, a kitchen or a living room. I just made my room the way  _ I  _ wanted it. Besides, the kitchen doesn't need to be ‘spruced up’, it needs to be renovated. Walls need to be knocked down.”

Bruce shrugged. “Not a problem. I'll get a contractor in here and they'll help you make the kitchen more functional.”

“I don’t know. I'll have to see what I think about it when my classes get going. I might not have much time to spare.”

“Bruce?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at Mar’i, and she rolled her eyes. His footsteps were so heavy, she  _ definitely _ would’ve heard him coming.

“We’re in Mary’s room, McGinnis,” he called back.

A few moments later, Terry appeared in the threshold. He gave Mar’i a short wave and glanced around the room. “Man, it looks totally schway in here. You should do the rest of the place.”

“Oh, I don’t--”

“We were just talking about that,” Bruce said, and he was smiling.

“Schway,” Terry said with a nod. “Uh, Bruce, we have a thing.”

Bruce blinked at him. “A ‘thing’?”

“Yeah. Sorry, like… that  _ urgent _ thing.”

“Fine. Get the car ready, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Got it boss,” Terry said, and he nodded at Mar’i before leaving. 

“Again?” Mar’i demanded. Yesterday she was in the middle of cooking dinner for herself and her grandfather when Terry barged into the kitchen saying something about an emergency at Wayne Enterprises. “What is it now?”

“Terry’s horrible at taking messages. It could be anything. We’ll reschedule our dinner for tomorrow.”

She made a pouty face at him. “You said that yesterday. I mean, X’hal, Grandpa, it’s been a week and I’ve barely seen you.”

“I’m sorry, Mar’i. Really.”

“Just go, it’s fine and whatever.”

She waited until he rounded the corner of the hallway before she lifted into the air to follow him. 

She  _ knew _ something sneaky was going on. It wasn’t so much her grandfather as it was Terry. He was just Bruce’s chauffeur and errand boy. Plus it seemed kind of like he was a surrogate son or something. But why would Terry keep coming to Bruce so late with seemingly intensely important emergencies? It also seemed weird to her that even when he really wanted to spend the evening with his granddaughter he didn’t have some manager or assistant he could use instead.

Instead of going out the front door, Bruce continued down a long hallway that was headed to the complete opposite end of the Manor. He approached the den at the end of the hallway and turned around, causing Mar’i to dive into a room with furniture draped in white sheets and thick curtains drawn over the window. 

When she peeked out from behind the door frame, he was gone.

“What the  _ hell _ ?” she muttered to herself, and she flew to the middle of the den.

“Grandpa?” she called. She didn’t really expect an answer but she didn’t know what else to do. 

There had to be an explanation for this. The floor was blanketed in thick carpet, so a trap door was probably not in play. There was a huge bookshelf that was the length and width of the back wall. Tentatively, she flew up to the top shelf and pulled a book out. 

“Dammit,” she muttered, and she threw the book on the floor. 

She landed on the floor with an angry thump, and she dropped from too high and it hurt her feet a little. 

After going through everything to get her father to let her stay here and working through community college and looking forward to having a little bit of unsupervised free time with her grandfather for basically the first time, he was blowing her off. And  _ lying _ to her. And she was  _ so mad _ at him. and Terry, too, interrupting them and always hanging around Bruce like a lost puppy.

This wasn’t fair.

She stormed back to her room and slammed the door, which was less satisfying when there was no one around to hear it slam.

She grabbed her phone and flopped onto her bed.

It wasn’t a conscious decision that she made, but before she could stew any more about how upset she was, she was FaceTiming Lian. 

Lian Harper was her best friend. She was three years older than Mar’i, but their dads were best friends and they grew up inseparable.

Lian got to moonlight as Speedy, something Mar’i was endlessly jealous about. Their fathers had different opinions about vigilantism, although to be fair, no one ever got Jokerized in Star City.

“What’s up?” Lian asked as she adjusted her phone's camera to better frame her face.

“I’m having such a sucky time here, I think this whole thing was a mistake.”

Lian blinked at her, confused. “What?”

Mar’i sighed. “My stupid grandfather always promises to do stuff with me and then bails. I have no friends. Bruce’s little errand-boy barely speaks to me.”

“Well, babe, you’ve only been there a week. You don’t have any friends because you haven’t left that big freaky mansion.”

“I know, but I only stay in here because Bruce keeps promising to spend the day with me. And, get this. Earlier Terry just bursts into my room saying something about an ‘emergency thing’ and Bruce says ‘okay, start the car’. But he didn’t  _ go _ to the car. He went into the den and  _ disappeared _ .”

“Uh, Mar’i… You snuck around following your grandfather in his own house?”`

“He  _ made  _ me!” Mar’i shouted, and her face felt warm. “I shouldn’t have to defend myself to you. I’m having a  _ terrible _ time here. And I  _ know _ that something freaky is going on, and I’m going to find out what.”

Lian looked truly distressed for a minute and the image shifted as she changed her position. “I’m sorry, Mare, I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. I just think you need to relax. It’s a super old, super big mansion. Maybe there was a back door or something.”

“You think I didn’t look? There was no door. I even tried pulling a book out of the bookshelf to see if a secret passage would open up. Isn’t that crazy?”

Suddenly, Lian looked pale. Her eyes focused on something beyond her phone.

“Uh, are you okay?”

Lian’s dark eyes flicked back to the camera. “Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, I have to go. I’m sorry you’re having a tough time, I’ll call you later, okay? I love you.”

“Wait--Lian--”

The call disconnected before she could say anything else.

It wasn’t like Lian to defend someone Mar’i was angry at. 

A powerful urge to bend her phone in half swept over her, but she threw it at her new curtains instead. She kind of wanted to cry, but her blood was rushing too fast and too hard through her veins. She desperately wanted to go out to a balcony that her grandfather had shown her during a tour of the Manor to shoot off some starbolts, but she couldn’t remember how to get there.

She laid back on her bed and tried to collect herself. Although she was angry at Lian, she remembered what she said about not leaving the Manor. Gotham was at her fingertips and she was hiding in this dark, empty mansion.

She flew over to her closet and pulled out a tight black skirt with a zipper that went all the way down the middle and a pink camisole. She paired the outfit with some ankle booties and stormed out of the house.

Catching the train into Gotham from Bristol required walking several long blocks to the nearest subway entrance, but Mar’i was still stewing and the walk didn’t seem so far. She wasn’t that familiar with the scene in downtown Gotham. Bludhaven was a city, but it didn’t have the nightlife that Gotham had and it only had two clubs that weren’t strip clubs. She did hear Terry talking about one club called  _ Galaxy _ , and she didn’t really realize that she was going there until she was already on the subway. There was no off-chance of running into him, since he was probably still busy with his “emergency” with Bruce.

She got in quickly, and once she got there she didn’t feel like she was about to burst from the amount of rage simmering beneath her skin.

She felt like an idiot.

Going to a club completely alone sounded like rock bottom.

She should’ve stayed in bed and cried.

“Excuse me,” someone said as they bumped into Mar’i’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Mar’i mumbled, and she blinked to clear her eyes.

“No, I know that look. What’s the matter, your boyfriend bail on you, too?” The girl seemed nice. She was much shorter than Mar’i, with perfectly straight, inky black hair that fell past her shoulders. 

“Um… sort of,” Mar’i answered with a wry smile.

“Come on, let me get you a drink. My name’s Dana.”

“I’m Mary.”

“Great! I’m drinking cranberry vodka, let me get you one.”

Mar’i let Dana pull her over to the bar, where she quickly got the attention of the bartender. Dana seemed to know everyone there, and they didn’t bother carding Mar’i.

At some point, cranberry vodka turned into shots of vodka.

“Your boyfriend just  _ left  _ you? No text?” Mar’i spluttered as she turned her shot glass upside down.

Dana nodded as she sucked on a slice of lemon. “Yeah. I mean, no. He texted me, like, two hours ago or something. But he said he would let me know, and he hasn’t said anything since then!”

“You should break up with him,” Mar’i said sagely.

“We’re kind of on-again, off-again. I know!” Dana shouted when Mar’i made a face at her. “I never thought I would be one of those girls who does an on-off thing, but it’s like, we break up and I try to move on and then all the guys out there are so much worse. And we get back together and it’s  _ so good _ for like, a few months, and then he’s back on his bullshit.”

Mar’i gigged, which made Dana giggle, and soon they were laughing so hard they were struggling to stay seated on their barstools. 

“You’re drunk,” Mar’i said when she regained her breath.

“You’re drunk!” Dana countered.

Listening to Dana talk about her problems, Mar’i was feeling way less isolated. Once she was in school, she would make a lot of friends, just like Lian said. Her grandfather was blowing her off, but lots of people blew lots of other people off sometimes. She would sit him down tomorrow and tell him how she was really feeling about everything and then see if she could get him to actually follow through with his plans.

She left so impulsively, she never even texted Bruce to tell him where she was going. She pulled her phone out of her purse to check for any texts, and was a little disappointed when there weren’t any.

“X’hal! It’s almost four in the morning! I have to go!”

“Are you going to be okay getting home?” Dana asked, spinning her stool around to face Mar’i as she jumped out of her chair and began rushing toward the exit.

Mar’i laughed at that. At Dana’s confused expression, she tried to turn her laughter into a coughing fit. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be fine. It was so nice meeting you!”

It was dark enough now, with so few people around that once Mar’i moved uptown a little, she could take off and simply fly home. Bruce wouldn’t be happy about it, but she wasn’t exactly happy with him at the moment.

After a few tries, she managed to get her key into the lock, and when she let herself in the Manor looked exactly the same as when she left it: dark, dusty, and empty. She sighed and flew up to her room.

She paused at the door. Her grandfather’s room was only down the hall. He  _ had _ to be in bed by now. She just wanted to be sure before she want to sleep.

She floated down to his door and cracked it open. It was dark, but there was definitely no one in his bed. 

The intense anger she felt before came flooding back to her. Where could he  _ be  _ for so long? He was in his sixties, there was no way he could still be working.

Mar’i flew back to the den. There was something messed up going on.

As she was trying to figure out what to do next, the broken grandfather clock that was fixed to the wall started to shake. As she watched, the clock and the whole wall panel disappeared, revealing a steep, stone staircase.

She landed, more out of surprise than anything else. She considered hiding behind her great-grandfather’s desk, or one of the armchairs, but she was still a little drunk and before she could move, she saw a pair of shadows followed closely by footsteps. 

Bruce appeared first, and he stopped ascending the stairs as soon as he saw her. He must have been blocking the way, because she heard Terry’s voice behind him. 

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Mary…” Bruce began, his tone placating. 

She almost wanted to light a starbolt and throw it at him, but being drunk definitely took the sharp edge out of her anger so it was more of an impulsive idea instead of an urge. Instead, she pointed an accusatory finger at him and shouted, “I knew it!”’

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a sneak peak of the next chapter:
> 
> _“Terry, fight me,” Mar'i commanded, and she hopped up from the table._
> 
> _Terry looked terrified for a moment before gathering himself and even letting out a small chuckle. “Dude… no. You're drunk, and you're wearing a skirt.”_
> 
> _“You want me to take the skirt off? I'll take it off.”_
> 
> _“God, Mar'i knock it off.”_
> 
> _“No! I'm dead serious, Terry McGinnis. Fight me._
> 
> I was debating on which characters I actually wanted to include in this universe, and I decided to go with Lian because Roy Harper already exists in the DCAU, so from there we can extrapolate Lian. I'm really trying not to go too nuts with characters from comics and focus more on what's already canon in the DCAU.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment!


	3. Chapter Three (Bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has a lot of explaining to do to his previously-estranged and currently drunk granddaughter.

Bruce sighed as he pushed his chair away from the many monitors set up against the craggy wall of the Batcave.

Gang activity was becoming a real problem. And it wasn't the gang activity that Bruce remembered, with Dons wearing suits and respecting territory once gained. 

This was the work of kids violently trying to boost their street cred. Attacking random strangers, robbing multiple stores a night, turf wars with changing maps every day.

Bruce couldn't help but feel responsible. Most of it was the work of kids who remembered Batman as feeble and slow, from his later years before Terry took on the cowl.

Terry emerged from the shower, fully dressed and toweling off his hair. It struck Bruce that he didn't seem tired anymore. He'd probably sleep until two in the afternoon and start his day then with a bowl of cereal. Bruce was trying to get him to complete a business degree online, but he kept failing algebra.

It gave Bruce some solace to know that with his schedule finally more flexible, he didn't seem so zombie-like, the way he had in high school. His mother was under the impression that Terry worked as a bouncer by night and Bruce's assistant by day.

Taking care of teenagers wasn't Bruce's strong point, everyone knew that. But he was actually  _ enjoying _ his time with Terry since he graduated from high school four years ago. It was his good relationship with Terry that inspired him to offer his home to Mar'i for college.

A decision that was turning out to be much more difficult than he'd thought it would be.

He loved having Mar'i at the house, but he didn't take into consideration how suspicious she would be of him, and how it would wound him physically to disappoint her.

Bruce was very against Dick keeping his past from her, although he'd learned when Mar'i was still a baby to keep quiet about it. Dick was right, to an extent--it wasn't Bruce's decision what she should or shouldn't know. And he would never jeopardize his relationship with both of them by telling her all about it now.

He would have to do some adjusting to his schedule, because this first week of having her in his home wasn't going well at all.

“Ready, boss?” Terry asked as he shook out his wet hair and threw his towel into the changing room. 

“Yeah. You did good work tonight, McGinnis.” Bruce reached for his cane as he stood slowly, letting his joints click into place. He had arthritis just about everywhere now, and Terry was taking him to get cortisone shots at least once every three months. The pain only bothered him a little, it was the immobility that really annoyed him.

“The Jokerz all seem crazy, but the T's are way more into guns and drugs. Sometimes I wish I had a sidekick or something so I could keep an eye on both of them at the same time.”

“You already have a sidekick.”

Terry grinned that bug, goofy grin he always wore when Bruce made a joke. “You mean you?”

“Sure.”

Bruce began to ascend the stairs, and Terry punched the button that opened the entrance.

“I meant someone to actually get out there. Or I could clone myself. But wait, clones come out as babies, right?”

Terry was so busy yammering that he smacked into Bruce, who'd stopped suddenly. Something was wrong. Everything seemed fine, but something was different.

“Bruce?” Terry asked, and he had the sense to be quiet. “What is it?”

Instead of answering, Bruce took another cautious step upward.

“I  _ knew  _ it!”

Bruce's heart sank into his stomach as Mar'i’s voice washed over him.

He could hear Terry go back down the stairs, which meant Mar'i could probably hear him, too. 

She was swaying very subtly, and her face seemed somehow soft. It didn't take his detective skills to smell vodka on her, though, or to notice her clothes.

He finished climbing the stairs and he grabbed her wrist as she continued pointing at him. “Are you  _ drunk _ ?” he hissed.

“So what if I am!” she pulled her wrist out of his hand, and Bruce wasn't exactly surprised to find that she was being far too rough. “I think  _ you're  _ drunk! Drunk off your lies!”

“Let's get you into bed, Mar'i.”

“I'm not going to bed,” she snapped. “I'm going to sit down in this chair back here and you're going to explain everything to me.”

The clock behind them slowly began to slide back into place. 

“Okay,” Mar'i said, and her voice was very high-pitched. “Okay, you don't want to tell me anything. That's great. But do you think I'm an idiot?”

“Mar'i, please, let me bring you to your room and I  _ swear _ we'll talk about this in the morning.”

“Oh, no. All your swearing has gotten me nowhere so far. I'm done letting you swear stuff.” She flew over him and landed in front of the clock, and just as easily as he'd seen Terry, or Dick or Barbara or even Tim in the past, she flipped the hands to read 8:15 and the wall opened up.

He was torn between being angry and very proud. 

“Mar'i, please don't,” Bruce said softly.

She looked back at him, and her face was so alive with so many different emotions that he couldn't tell what she was actually feeling.

“I'm sorry grandpa, but you leave me no choice.” The heels on her boots clicked softly as she descended the stairs.

Bruce sighed, and he reached into his pocket for his phone. It was almost six, so Dick was probably already up.

“Dick?” Bruce said into the phone, and he didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “She knows.”

There was silence for several seconds, and then Dick's voice, clipped but calm as ever, answered, “I'm on my way.”

Bruce hung up immediately and groaned as he followed Mar'i down the stairs. 

“Holy shit,” she muttered when Bruce put his hand on her shoulder. “This whole time? You've been doing this all along and you got  _ Terry _ to help you instead of--”

She interrupted herself suddenly and covered her mouth with her hand. 

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked, and he tilted her face upward to get a better look at her. 

Mar'i shook her head, making Bruce drop his hands, and she mumbled, “I'm gonna puke.”

“Got it,” Terry said from somewhere deeper in the cave, and he picked up the garbage can that Bruce kept for documents he'd shredded and thrust it into Mar'i's hands. 

“Sit down,” Bruce commanded, and he led her over to a spindly metal table that he kept as a station for stitches, exams, or autopsies. She let him help her onto the table and sat with the garbage can on her lap.

“McGinnis, you should go,” Bruce said.

“Nah, let me stay. This is exciting. I want to see what happens.”

Bruce rounded on him, filled with the urge to smack him like a child. “This is not  _ exciting. _ This is unfortunate.”

“No, I know. But in the end, we'll have one more person in the know. That's kind of-- What?” Terry paused at Bruce's stony expression. “You wouldn't. Your own granddaughter?”

“I don't  _ want _ to.” They were referring, of course, to drugging Mar'i and making her forget what she saw with an injection. Something Bruce had only had to do a handful of times. “Her father is on his way. What happens next is up to him.” 

“That's sick.”

“You should go,” Bruce said, and he turned back to Mar'i. “Can I get you anything? Tea? An antiemetic?”

“No, I'm feeling better now. It was just a lot. I'm so angry at you. And my dad! And--does Lian know about this?”

“Lian Harper? Sure.” There was no use lying to her at this point.

“X'hal, I'm gonna kill her.”

Bruce approached her and put a hand on her head to comfort her. “What do you want to do now, Starshine?” he asked, using her father's nickname for her. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Of course not! We have a lot to talk about, you and me. Doe he he know all about me then?” she asked, jerking her thumb first at Terry, then at herself.

“No. Your father and I decided not to tell him. It was easier to keep this from you if he didn't know.”

“What are you talking about?” Terry asked, sounding generally confused.

“Not now, McGinnis.”

“No! Yes, now! Terry, I'm a freaking alien! Okay? And so is my mom!”

Terry flicked his cool blue eyes to Bruce, eyebrow raised. Bruce sighed in response, which was apparently all Terry needed as an answer.

“What kind of alien? You're not a Kryptonian, are you?”

“Of course not. I'm a Tamaranean. Here, look.” Mar'i reached behind her neck and unhooked the necklace which held her hologram pendant. She placed it on the table with a tinny clank, and the hologram faded with an electric crackle.

Her eyes lit up, the scleras and pupils fading to the bright green color that always ringed her irises. 

Terry raised his eyebrows at her and nodded. “Schway.”

“I've also been trained in combat. When I was sixteen, my parents let me go to Okaara in the Vegan System.”

Terry looked to Bruce again.

“I actually didn't know that,” Bruce admitted.

“Yeah, I know. My parents made me address all my letters to you like I was still home. Dad really didn't want me to go, but mom was like, ‘it's your right as a Tamaranean’. That's why I waited until I was sixteen. Kids normally go when they turn twelve.” 

The more Mar'i spoke, the more she was slurring her words. She was obviously still drunk, and Bruce really wanted to let her at least nap it off for maybe a half hour before her father arrived.

“So everyone knows everyone's secrets now,” Bruce said in summation. “I really want you to get some sleep, Mar'i.”

“Oh, I'm not done here. I want in.”

“You  _ what _ ?” Dick was going to kill Bruce. A headache was blooming at both temples.

“Yeah. I wanna help. I want a costume and a secret identity and a flying car to drive around in.”

“No,” Bruce snapped irritably.

“Why not? You guys obviously need help. This place is a mess, Terry can't do this by himself.”

“You're not trained. It's too dangerous. You're going to school.”

“I  _ am _ trained. I just told you twenty seconds ago that I went to Okaara.”

“Going to sleepaway camp for a few months with the royal package is not the same as fighting strangers who are trying their best to kill you.”

“I hate you sometimes,” Mar'i said, her voice scathing.

“Yes, well. Join the club.”

If I lose, I'll go to sleep, okay?”

Bruce sighed. When Mar'i set her mind to something, there was really no way to make her forget about it. She was very like her mother in that sense. “Fine, Terry, do it. Make it quick.”

“Are you  _ serious?  _ You want to fight your drunk granddaughter at five AM.”

“Yes. Do it or leave.”

“How am  _ I _ the only rational person here?” Terry muttered as he shrugged of his jacket. 

Mar'i was already standing in a defensive position, her elbows pointed toward her hips, her fingers balled into tight fists.

Reluctantly, Terry copied her stance.

“Take this seriously, McGinnis,” Bruce warned. “Go.”

On his word, Mar'i sprang into action, jabbing punches at Terry.

He was obviously completely surprised, and she had him on the offensive. He finally started swinging at her and she not only ducked, but dropped to her hands and swept her legs under him. He fell onto all fours and Mar'i grabbed him by throat and pinned him onto his back. Balling her fist not grabbing his throat and holding it above his chest.

“Stop, stop.”

Mar'i sprang away from Terry, looking absolutely pleased with herself. “That wasn't even hard!”

“Okay wait,” Terry said, gasping as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “That--I didn't know about super strength. I wasn't ready.”

“Super strength, flight, starbolts,” Bruce listed. “A couple other things not relevant to fighting.”

“Starbolts?” Terry echoed.

“I won't use them while you're not in your suit, I don't want to hurt you,” Mar'i said. “Are we going again?”

“Uh…” Terry stammered.

“Yes,” Bruce answered. “And this time, Terry’s actually going to fight you.”

They both got into starting positions once more. “And… go,” Bruce ordered.

Terry started out much stronger this time, and even with her super strength, Mar'i's defense wasn't as good as her offense.

He grazed her jaw with a punch and paused, and that's when she came back. She punched at his midsection which didn't really seem to faze him. She flipped over him with her flight, and as he turned to follow her she grabbed his arm. She twisted it behind his back and he struggled for a moment before looking at Bruce, and it annoyed Bruce to see that he was smiling.

“She's good, Bruce.”

“Mar'i Grayson.”

Mar'i's mouth fell open and she released Terry. She turned to Bruce with a tearful expression on her face. “You called my  _ dad _ ?”

Bruce didn't answer. He watched Dick descend the stairs, Kory directly behind him. Neither looked happy.

“What the hell is going on here, Bruce?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter Four (Mar'i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mar'i's parents take a trip to Gotham to settle a little family business.

Mar’i groaned as she rested her head in her hands.

This was turning out to be a nightmare.

Her parents quickly realized that she was drunk and her mom brewed some kind of thick coffee that looked gross but tasted pretty good.

Her father was doing that thing where he was being really quiet but he was clenching his jaw so hard that his eye twitched. 

His footsteps pierced through the haze of still being half-drunk. He came over to her at the head of the table, paused, and just when she thought he might say something to her, he paced over to the other end of the very long dining table. 

He’d been doing this for forty-five minutes. 

“Breakfast, everyone!” Kory chirped, and she pushed the kitchen door open with her hip. She placed a plate in front of Mar’i: eggs, toast and bacon. She walked over to Bruce and placed an identical plate in front of him. 

“Let me help you, Mrs. Grayson,” Terry said quickly, and he disappeared into the kitchen before she could even accept his help. 

They both emerged with three more plates and set them down. Kory pulled a chair out for herself and Dick continued pacing. 

“Dick, honey, sit down.”

“I’m not hungry, Kory,” he answered.

“Dick. Sit down,” she said more forcefully.

He sighed and complied. 

The most awkward breakfast  _ ever _ ensued. Mar’i wasn’t really hungry. She ate the toast and pushed the rest around her plate. She didn’t look at her parents once.

Bruce actually seemed to like the meal and Terry shoved everything in his mouth, seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding before him.

Dick drank several cups of coffee and didn’t say a word or eat one bit of the food on his plate.

Once Kory finished her breakfast, she placed her utensils down on her plate. Everyone except Mar’i raised their heads to look at her.

“Mar’i, honey,” she began, and Dick took a slow sip of his coffee, probably to allow her to finish without interrupting her. “Your father and I are very concerned about you.”

Mar’i laughed. After eating her toast she didn’t think she was feeling so drunk anymore, but she couldn’t control the laughter that was coming from her chest so maybe she was. 

“You guys are  _ worried  _ about me?” She continued laughing. “Maybe I would be worried, too, if the foundation of lies I built my daughter’s life on was crumbling. I wouldn’t know, though, because I would never do that to someone.”

“Mar’i,” Dick said, and she could tell that he was trying to be calm but his voice strained. “There’s  _ a lot _ going on here that you don’t know.”

“Obviously. You guys never told me  _ anything. _ ”

“Stop speaking to your parents that way,” Bruce chided her, and she glared at him. 

“Or what, you’re gonna call my dad on me?”

“This isn’t just fun. This is a lot of work and danger. It’s not about being a superhero and saving the day.”

Anger boiled over in her and she was seized by the absurd urge to fire a starbolt at the chandelier that hung above the table. “That isn’t what I want. I just want to Mar’i Grayson for a little bit instead of Mary Grayson. I want to be allowed to fly outside. I want to shoot starbolts sometimes. I want people to treat me like I’m a damn grown woman and I can make decisions for myself!”

“Something really bad happened,” Bruce said, his fist clenched on the table in front of him.

She furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Did… did someone die?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. Worse.”

“Worse?” she asked. 

“The Robin after your dad was Tim Drake. He was kidnapped by the Joker and Harley Quinn and they tortured him by pumping chemicals into him and then they brainwashed him and he lived with them as their son for months.” Bruce’s face was tight as he spoke, and he said the whole thing without looking up. “I really don’t want to put you in the way of something like that.”

Mar’i was quiet for a moment. “But you put Terry out there all the time.”

Bruce glanced at Terry, who’d taken Bruce’s plate and was eating off of it. “Yeah, but I’m cool with it,” Terry said with his mouth full of eggs.

“This is totally a double standard.”

“It’s not a double standard. Terry chose to do this. We didn’t know how to introduce you to all of this when you were a kid without making it seem like you had to do this,” Kory explained gently. 

“Well, thanks for treating me like some idiot who can’t make her own decisions.”

“That’s a lot of talk for someone who went out and got wasted last night. Your first day of classes is tomorrow, Mar’i, what were you thinking?” Dick asked in his classic Dad voice.

“I was thinking that I’m in this gigantic house all day by myself and my grandfather always runs off to some emergency, which I know now was probably like, a real emergency. And you and grandpa are so weird, so I didn’t want to call you to talk about it. And I called Lian, and  _ she  _ wouldn’t talk to me. I don’t know, I guess it was dumb, and I’m sorry, but honestly I don’t know what you want from me.”

“If you ever go out and drink like this again, I will bring you back to Bludhaven and put you in the jail at my precinct. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, Dad, I understand,” Mar’i sighed. 

“Good.”

“And as for this superhero thing--” Dick continued, but he was cut off by Kory.

“You can do it,” she said, calmly but firmly.

“What?” Dick and Mar’i exclaimed at the same time, and Mar’i stood up so quickly she knocked her chair over.

“She’s not alone, she has Bruce and Terry. After her training on Okaara, I’m confident that she can handle anything.”

“Kory, we agreed that--”

“We agreed that we wouldn’t tell Mar’i about this until the time was right and then we could never agree on the right time. I never agreed to deprive our daughter of the right to use her powers.”

“Okay,” Dick said, and he stood up and addressed Mar’i directly. “Okay. You can do this. But you’re on probation. If you get so much as a scratch in the first ninety days, I’m pulling you out of this manor and you’re moving into a dorm on campus. And your grades better not go down, either. You go below an eighty in any of your classes and that’s it.”

“Thank you, Dad!” Mar’i shouted, and she flew across the table to hug him.

“I love you,” he murmured into her hair protectively. “Please be careful.”

“You know I will be.”

“Your mom and I are going to get going, Mar’i. We have some things to discuss… privately,” Dick announced, and he really didn’t seem pleased but her mother was unbothered.

Kory stood and wrapped Mar’i into a big hug. “If you need anything, you can call us at  _ any  _ time. For anything.”

“Okay mom, got it.”

She hugged Bruce and kissed his cheek, and she pulled Terry in for a hug, too. 

“Call me when you finish your classes tomorrow. See you, Starshine,” Dick said, and then they were gone.

“Oh, X’hal, that was so much. I can’t believe you  _ told  _ on me to my parents,” Mar’i said, and she let her head sink onto the table.

“Are you still drunk?” Terry asked cautiously. “Were you drunk when we were sparring?”

“I don’t know, Terry. I’m so tired.” Mar’i knocked on the top of the table with the back of her hand. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Mar’i, before you go to bed I think--”

“Grandpa,  _ please _ . We were all up last night and I honestly don’t know if I’m still drunk or if it’s the caffeine from my mom’s weird coffee but I really need to lay down. Can we talk about this later?”

Bruce glanced at Terry and then looked back at Mar’i. “Fine,” he said, and he sounded like a sulking teenager. 

“I love you,” Mar’i said to placate him, and she pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek.

“We’ll talk later,” Bruce said, and patted her on the crown of her head.

“Sure.” It was nice to be able to fly to her room instead of sneaking around now that Terry knew everything.

Her sleep was light. Even though she was exhausted, her body wasn’t used to sleeping during the day, and the sun shining on her provided a buzzing energy. 

She dreamed of the streets of Gotham and moonlight and pink starbolts.

“Mar’i!”

She gasped and sat up, throwing the blanket away as she did/ “Is Gotham in trouble?”

Terry chuckled at her. “Uh… no. Bruce wants to see you in the Batcave.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No. That is a common thought when the old man asks for you, though, so get used to it.”

“So, I feel like I should let you know before that I was kind of being a jerk because Bruce didn’t want me becoming friends with you because he thought you’d figure everything out because of that.”

Mar’i scoffed at him. “So now that you have Bruce's permission, you won't ignore me? Thank you, that's so flattering and heartwarming.”

“No problem,” Terry said evenly, and Mar'i wasn't sure if he was dismissing her sarcasm or if he recognized it all. 

The Batcave looked so dreary to Mar'i, now that she was able to really look around. It was lit from many different angles, but the lighting was so unnatural looking and kind of gave off a vibe that she was being interrogated. 

Bruce had moved a table to the main area of the Batcave, where the gigantic but sleek monitor was, and on it rested a bodysuit.

Bruce himself was standing over the table, writing notes on a legal pad. He didn't acknowledge them until they approached the table.

His blue eyes had gotten much lighter with age, Mar'i noticed. He was much slower than she remembered from her childhood, each movement more deliberate. Looking around the Batcave, she wondered how different her grandfather's health would be if none of this existed.

He put down his pen and smiled at her. It was a light, small smile, but the energy around him was so vitalized. “This is a suit I'd made years ago for the previous Batgirl. She never used it. Instead of upgrading she left to pursue what turned out to be a very successful career. I'd like you to have it.”

The suit on the table was typical for a Batgirl suit, a large bat emblazoned on the chest, a cowl complete with ears that fit snugly over the eyes, a belt around the hips.

Mar'i found herself growing too hot.

“Grandpa, I really don't mean to upset you, but this isn't what I had in mind.”

Bruce was silent and raised his eyebrows at her, silently asking for more information. She felt the energy surrounding him fizzle.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I really want something that's more…  _ me. _ I want something that's all of this,” she explained, gesturing to the Batgirl suit, “and also sort of… Tamaranean.”

Bruce paused. “Tamaranean?” he repeated.

“Yeah. I mean, you know. I don't really want to be  _ Batgirl,  _ but I want to be  _ with _ Batman.”

Mar'i could tell that Bruce did not know how to take that. 

“I really appreciate this. But I’m not Batgirl. I already have an idea for a secret identity.” Bruce didn’t offer any sort of input, so Mar’i took a deep breath before throwing out her pitch. “Nightstar.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “Okay. I can work with that. Give me some time to put something together for you.”

“Really?” Mar’i felt a smile pulling at her face, and she bit her lip to keep from seeming too excited, probably unsuccessfully. 

“It’s going to be bulletproof. That means  _ full coverage. _ I don’t think you’ll need a mask since your eyes will be disguised anyway. Should be ready by Friday.”

“F-Friday? So I can start Friday?”

“If you want. But as your father said, you’ll be on probation. You’ll stay with Terry. No going off on your own. And if anything happens, that’s it. You’ll be done.”

Mar’i floated forward and threw her arms around her grandfather. “Thank you,” she said, and let go when he patted her head. 

“Make yourself something for dinner and go to sleep. I want your first day tomorrow to go well.”

“I just slept for like, hours. But fine. I’ll see you in the morning.” Mar’i pressed a kiss to the top of Bruce’s balding head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She waved at Terry and flew up the stairs to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I'm supposed to be posting on Fridays but I just got back from vacation. (Went to Disney World with my boyfriend and it was awesome, but anyway.)
> 
> And, I know that as an author I haven't been the best at replying to comments or even PMs (although to be fair, I've been pretty inactive most of the time, not that that's a good defense), but starting today I'm going to try to do a better job. So expect a reply from me from now on! I'll also go back and reply to comments I've missed.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter Five (Terry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry helps Dana sort out a little family drama.

Terry crossed his arms and leaned against the metal examination table. “So. Exciting day.”

Bruce seemed lost in thought, staring at the Batgirl suit. “I’m trusting you to take care of her,” he said softly, not looking up at Terry. 

“I know. But to be honest, I think she’s a lot more capable than anyone has given her credit for all day.”

Bruce turned his light blue eyes to Terry. “You don’t know her, McGinnis.”

“Yeah, no, I know. But I don’t think you’re such an expert either.”

The glare that Bruce fixed him with was truly one for the books. 

Unfortunately for Bruce, the Batman-glare stopped working on him after a few years.

Terry’s phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket nonchalantly to look at it.

_ It’s Doug. Come to the station with me. I need you. _

“I gotta go, Bruce. I’ll be back for later.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah. It’s just, you know, family drama with Dana.”

“That deadbeat brother of hers again?”

“Yeah. Look, man, I gotta go. I’ll be back.”

Driving through downtown Gotham was something that Terry had gotten pretty good at. Traffic was frustrating, but Terry found that he was generally familiar enough with traffic patterns around the city to guess how much time it would take to get places. The hard part about driving in Gotham was that you couldn’t rush.

This was hard for Terry to remember as he inched Bruce’s car through gridlocked traffic. 

Dana’s brother had been a problem child since they were in high school. He was three years younger than they were, and Terry never met him in person until their senior year of high school when he was between boarding schools. 

Doug Tan was terrifyingly obsessed with the Joker. He’d tried to join the Jokerz when he was eleven, which ended in a beating which broke his nose and the beginning of his years-long stay at boarding schools.

Terry felt bad for him. If Bruce hadn’t scooped him up, Terry could have ended up a lot like him. Except for the Joker-worshipping part, that was just crazy.

Before he could even text her that he was there, Dana was pulling the heavy wooden door to her father’s townhouse closed. 

“Are you okay?” Terry asked as she snapped the passenger door closed behind her.

“Yeah, just drive, babe.”

Terry complied and pulled back onto the main road. “Which station?”

“Ninety-ninth.”

“Your brother got arrested at 6PM?” Terry asked as he slowed to a stop at a red light.

“No,” Dana said hotly. “He got arrested last night but he was drunk and got in a fight so he had to be isolated until he calmed down.”

“Oh, great. That’s much better.”

“I know,” Dana sighed. “I just talked to him on the phone, and he’s sorry. He got drunk and picked a fight with some T’s. My dad is already looking at some rehab places.”

“Ninety days of rich-boy day camp. Never saw that coming,” Terry muttered. 

“Okay, then. What’s your genius solution, Terry?” Dana shouted. “How are you going to fix my brother?”

“No, I’m sorry, Dane, I didn’t mean--”

“Didn’t mean it?” she interrupted. “Then what did you mean?”

“I don’t know! It’s just that your brother has gone from boarding school to rehab to a few clean weeks and then back to rehab, and I don’t think sticking him in the rehab that costs your dad ten thousand dollars a week is going to help anymore.” Terry glided the car easily through downtown traffic, trying to keep his body language relaxed. Once she thought she was being scrutinized, Dana got very defensive and started to pick fights.

“Listen, you’re being a jerk but I’ll let it slide because it’s really sweet of you to drop everything and drive me.”

“Of course, Dana. You're my girl.” Terry wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her forehead.

“I just hope he's okay, he said he got in a fight and I don't know how hurt he is.”

“I'm sure he's fine. He didn't have to go to the hospital or anything, right?”

“No, but you know. He’s a twenty year old repeat offender, they probably don’t care about taking good care of him.” Dana bit her lip nervously. 

The station was all grey inside, with uniformed cops sitting at desks, doing work on computers. They were separated from the public by a half-wall with a glass top. Closest to them and in front of that wall was a secretary's booth, a desk bordered by glass on all sides with a small opening fixed to a tiny ledge for sliding documents through and a speaker set into the glass wall. Dana was looking around wide-eyed, unsure of what to do. 

Terry put his hand on Dana’s shoulder and guided her toward the booth. “Hi, Miss?” Terry said into the speaker, leaning on the ledge easily. 

A small, mousey woman was inside, with her hair in a bun and a large blazer over her shoulders. Her eyes were sharp and she regarded Terry, unimpressed.

“Hi. We’re here to pick up a young man. Doug Tan?”

The secretary swiveled her chair to a computer set up in the side of the booth and typed noisily before clicking a few times. “ID?” she asked, and even from the short exchange Terry could hear a thick Gotham accent. 

Terry nodded at Dana and she passed her driver’s license through the small gap in the ledge. 

The secretary swiveled her chair again and a light flashed followed by whirring. Presumably a scanner. She turned back to pass Dana the ID once more. “That’s five thousand credits.”

“ _ Five thousand? _ ” Terry echoed, his mouth hanging open. 

“It’s fine,” Dana muttered, trying to shush him as she passed her card through the gap. 

“Dana, that’s pretty steep,” Terry pointed out.

“He’s a repeat offender for gang-related violence,” the secretary informed him as she took Dana’s card.

“It’s  _ fine _ Terry,” Dana said desperately, and a blush was beginning to form on her cheeks. 

Terry sighed. 

He’d like to run into Doug on the street as Batman and really scare him straight. 

The secretary passed Dana’s card back. “You can take a seat, ma’am.”

Dana sat stiffly in the round chairs lining the back wall, her leg crossed tightly over the other. 

Terry’s mind wandered to his mother, and the times he’d done this to her when he was still a kid, getting in fights weekly until he ended up in juvie. 

If it wasn’t for Bruce, would he have been able to turn his life around?

Sometimes, Terry thought he could’ve. He was already doing well when he met Bruce. It was hard, though. People from his past wouldn’t leave him alone. As much as he tried to avoid trouble, trouble always found him. 

He’d grown up a lot since then.  _ A lot _ . Maybe it wasn’t fair of him to judge Doug so harshly, but he didn’t know how to break through to him. He had no sense of responsibility to himself or to his family. And Terry was sure that the luxurious rehabs were the worst thing for him. It wasn’t a punishment as much as it was a slap on the wrist. 

The half-wall opened up and Dana sprang to her feet. 

Doug had a green bruise on his jaw, but other than that he looked fine. He was in handcuffs, two cops flanking him. One was holding a tablet. 

“Miss Tan?” he asked, and Dana nodded vigorously. “Please state your relationship to the detained.”

“Sister, I’m his sister,” she answered eagerly. 

“Sign here,” he said, and he held the tablet out to her. She signed her sprawling signature and the second cop released the handcuffs. 

Dana threw her arms around Doug’s neck, and he reciprocated by patting her on the back. 

“Hello, Dana.”

“Doug, what the  _ hell  _ happened?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “Got in a fight.” Dana was not pleased with this answer, and Doug added a hasty, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, whatever. You spoke to Dad?”

“Yeah, I spoke to him.”

“Good. You remember Terry?”

“Hey, man,” Terry said, and offered his hand for Doug to shake. 

Doug stared at Terry’s hand and, after several seconds, took it. Terry purposefully applied a bit more pressure than he normally would have. 

“Yes, we’ve met once or twice.”

“Car’s out front,” Terry said as he dropped Doug’s hand. He led the way out and let Dana walk next to her brother. 

He really wanted a cigarette. Normally he liked smoking in Bruce’s cars while he drove, but Dana would bite his head off. Bruce wasn’t a fan, either, since he hated his cars smelling like cigarettes, but Terry always sprayed air freshener and cleaned the seats before he left. Bruce said it didn’t help much. 

Doug was silent the entire ride home, and Dana was picking at her nail polish. Every chip that fell onto the carpeted floors would earn more and more of Bruce’s frustration until he wound up blowing up at Terry for something minor.

“Okay. Here we are, guys,” Terry said, after he’d stopped in their driveway for a few moments and no one moved. 

“Thank you, Terry,” Doug said politely, and he got out of the door and entered the house as though he never left it.

Dana still hadn’t moved. 

“Dane?” Terry asked, and he unbuckled his seat belt to get a better look at her face. “Are you okay?”

When she looked at him, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I’m scared, Terry.”

“Of--of Doug?”

“No! No. I’m scared  _ for _ him. I think you’re right, and the fancy rehabs aren’t working. I don’t know what my dad’s gonna do next. He’s  _ pissed _ , Terry. And my brother has been so different. I feel like things are about to change for this family.”

Terry reached across Dana to unbuckle her seatbelt and he pulled her onto his lap. “Listen, babe. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’ve sort of been where your brother is and it’s not too late. But something needs to break through to him. I don’t know what that thing is.”

Dana rested her head on Terry’s shoulder. “What broke through to you?”

Stupid move. That was the next most obvious question, and Terry should have anticipated it. He brushed his fingers through her silky hair as he stalled for time.

She seemed to take this as an answer. “Was it me?”

How to answer without lying or seeming like an asshole.

“Partly, yeah.”

She giggled softly, in a way that normally drove him crazy, and she rested her palms on either side of his face to pull him into a kiss. 

It was amazing to Terry that Dana put up with him for all these years, on and off though it may be. He didn’t deserve her. And she didn’t deserve to have to put up with her brother. 

He pulled away from her gently. “Listen. You can call me any time. I know I’m not always able to be around but you know I always answer my phone.”

“Terry,” Dana said, and her eyes were dry now and so dark. “Stay with me tonight.”

“Ah,” he growled, and he leaned his head back against the seat. Dana sensed that he was frustrated, and she shifted against him playfully. “I would  _ love _ to, but I kind of ran out on Bruce to drive you and I need to get back to finish… work,” he finished lamely as she moved against him again. 

“You’re so busy all the time,” Dana sighed, her breath warm on Terry’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine. She pulled back and settled herself in the passenger seat again. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow?”

“You have your first day of grad school tomorrow,” he reminded her, regretting very much convincing her to move away.

“Come by in the morning. Early.”

“You got it, boss,” he said, and she kissed his cheek before batting her eyelids at him and getting out of the car. 

As soon as the front door closed behind her, Terry dug into his jacket pocket for a cigarette and his lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who may be wondering, Doug Tan is not an OC. He's a character from the Batman Beyond comics. I'm only using the comic character as a springboard, as I'm really trying not to dirty my hands with the comics too much.
> 
> Here's a little sneak peak of the next chapter! It was my intention to do these at the end of every chapter but sometimes it's hard to find something that won't give the context of the whole chapter away.
> 
>  
> 
> _“Hey,” Dana interrupted, peeking around Max’s shoulder. “I know that girl.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“What? Who?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“With the curly hair,” Dana said. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Mary!”_
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment!


	6. Chapter Six (Max)

Max groaned when her alarm clock rang. Loudly. 

Her first class actually didn’t start until noon, but Dana didn’t drive and Max had been roped into carpooling with her, despite her best attempts at talking down her piece of junk car.

Terry had her on such a crazy sleep schedule that even though it was nine-thirty AM, it still seemed way too early to her. Not that she even worked with him last night--she was officially a consultant, available at the touch of a button but on an as-needed basis. But her circadian rhythm flipped back when she was still in undergrad. 

Max had graduated from GU with a degree in electrical engineering in two years, and she was on her way to a PhD. Bruce Wayne had gotten her a job at Wayne-Powers, something she was staunchly against for a long time but finally accepted when he convinced her that she deserved the job because of her skill, not because of her work under the table.

She’d actually taken a break from school over the summer, mostly at Terry’s urging, and she was anxious to get back at it.

Her bed was so comfortable, one of the perks of actually making a decent living, and it was so hard to drag herself away from it. But, coffee was waiting for her in the kitchen. She could already smell it. That timed brewer was her favorite thing she’d ever purchased. She wanted to invent something that could turn appliances into people so she could have a passionate whirlwind romance with it and get married in a courthouse in front of her closest friends. 

The brewer was calling to her, and she answered by throwing her covers away and gulping down a cup. She took a shower and drank another cup and while she was sipping her third cup and buttering her bagel, she realized that it was already ten-thirty. She’d spent too much time in bed. 

She said a quick prayer like she always did that her car would start and drove as quickly as she could to Dana’s house. 

The text she sent Dana when she pulled into her driveway was immediately answered by Dana herself emerging from the front door of her townhouse.

Followed by Terry.

“Terry?!” Max spluttered, almost spilling her fourth cup of coffee in her surprise.

He grinned at her sheepishly as they approached her car. 

“Thanks so much, Max, I  _ so _ didn’t feel like dealing with the subway,” Dana said hurriedly as she reached for the door. “Oh wait, shoot. My bag. Hang on, I’ll be right back out, I just left it in my room.”

“Really, McGinnis?” Max asked as she sipped her coffee. “If you’re here, why am I driving?”

“I didn’t take the car,” Terry answered with a shrug. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor.”

Max frowned. “A consultant-type favor?”

“Yeah. A little outside your field of specialty.”

Max continued frowning at him, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a 5x7 envelope. She snatched it from him and opened it. Pictures of various sizes of a girl, inconspicuous looking if Max was any judge of character. Black hair, green eyes, tall. 

And then some pictures of the same girl, but with solid green eyes, shooting off lasers out of her hands.

“You’re showing me pictures of some rando while coming directly from your girlfriend’s bedroom? Control yourself, McGinnis.”

Terry didn’t smile. “She’s Bruce’s granddaughter. Sort of. And she’s going to be joining us after hours.”

All of that was a pretty huge shock to Max. She didn’t know Bruce had any children. Of course she knew that he  _ had  _ had children, years ago, but from what she understood now, all of them had cut contact with him. “What do you need me to do?”

“She’s an undergrad student at GU starting today. Linguistics major. I just need you to keep an eye on her.”

Max laughed, a dry laugh with no humor. “You want me to stalk her?”

Terry glanced over his shoulder as Dana reemerged from her house. “Yes. And don’t worry about clocking in tonight, boss says your time today is covered.”

Before Max could ask anything else, Dana launched herself into the passenger seat. 

“We gotta go, babe, I’m gonna be so late.” She yanked Terry by his coat into the open window and kissed him quickly. “Come on, Max, I’m gonna be late on my  _ first day!” _

Max pulled up to the Business building and Dana almost leaped out while the car was still running. 

After spending twenty minutes trying to park, Max took a seat at a table in the cafe at the Student Commons, a small chain coffee shop in bookstores and colleges called Nook Coffee, which Max preferred to Starbucks because all the ingredients were organic and sustainable and they didn’t use stupid size measurements.  

She only had a few minutes before her class began, so she grabbed a coffee and opened the envelope again. This girl looked so ordinary. There were thousands of students at GU. This was like finding a needle in a haystack.

The light roast was her favorite, and she took a sip while it was still too hot and burned the roof of her mouth a little. Just the way she liked it.

Max cracked her knuckles as subtly as she could. Within her first year at GU, she used the computer in the Batcave to gain access to all the administrative files, including student lists and their schedules.

Mary was almost exclusively taking linguistics classes--Syntax, Phonology, and Semantics, with Principles of Biology probably serving as a science requirement. She’d also expressed interest in the Botany club, so it would be worth it to hang out there. 

She packed up her things and made her way to class. She was only taking two classes this semester. Since she was already so ahead of the game and working full time, there was no need to kill herself every semester. And one class wasn’t even really class, but a TA requirement she had to fulfill for her PhD.

Which meant that she only had one class today and she could spend the rest of her time tailing Mary.

Her Computer Systems class was an hour long, hence all the coffee. 

Once that was through, she usually went to the quiet study rooms in the library to study while she waited for Dana. Today, she made her way to the liberal arts center of campus and hung around the commons there. 

Just as Max had thought she would be, Mary was in the cafeteria, buying lunch. Sitting on a bench in the corner of the Commons, Max could see into the cafeteria without looking too conspicuous.

Her initial thoughts: She was alone, with a pretty sad looking lunch, looking down at her phone a lot. She didn’t appear to be texting much, but maybe she was on the internet. 

She simply ate a sandwich in the cafeteria and then left for her next class. 

Max was feeling like this was a pretty big waste of time. But then, that was probably good. She wasn’t sure what Bruce was hoping to get out of this, but it was better that she had nothing interesting to tell him.

Maybe he thought she was involved with the Jokerz or something. Maybe he thought she was using him for his money. 

To Max, she just looked like a transfer student who didn’t have any friends and was even a little bit shy. 

It was a good thing Max was getting paid for this. She started looking over some of her lesson plans for her TA class, but it was very difficult to work in the Commons, especially compared to the work she usually did at the library. 

Just before Mary’s next class let out, Max made sure she was standing outside the door so she could follow her.

She emerged from her next class speaking to a guy, smiling softly at him.

It occurred to Max then that maybe Bruce was worried that she wouldn’t be very discreet about their situation.

She followed them, looking down at her phone like she was texting someone to meet up or something. That was probably stupid. She wasn’t good at this type of thing. Terry usually handled the secretive stuff. But of course, she knew what Terry looked like. 

The two of them were going down a long hallway that connected the liberal arts main building to the mixed lecture halls. Mary didn’t have any lecture halls, so she must have been walking Blonde Guy to his next class.

“Max!” 

Max quickly glanced around to see who was calling her, trying not to bring much attention to herself. 

Dana was running up to her from the other end of the hallway.

“There you are. I’ve been texting you.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’m trying to meet up with one of the other TAs and I think he sent me the wrong room number,” she lied quickly. Pretty believable, she thought to herself a little smugly.

“Oh. You could’ve given me a head’s up,” Dana said indignantly.

“Sorry, I didn’t think--”

“Hey,” Dana interrupted, peeking around Max’s shoulder. “I know that girl.”

“What? Who?”

“With the curly hair,” Dana said. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Mary!”

Max rolled her eyes. Hopefully, it wasn’t a problem for Bruce that Mary actually met her.

She turned around and spotted Dana, waved goodbye to Blonde Guy, and hurried over to them. She looked genuinely excited to see her.

“Hi!” she said to Dana. “Wow, what a coincidence!”

“Yeah,” Max said, laughing. “How do you guys know each other?”

“I actually met Mary at the club the other night,” Dana said, laughing. “Oh my god, I got  _ way  _ drunker than I meant to that day. You got home okay, right?”

“Yeah. I got in huge trouble with my parents, though.”

Dana shrugged. “My dad doesn’t bother anymore.” Dana caught Max’s eye and told her, “I was so pissed at Terry that night, and she let me talk her ear off--”

“Wait,” Mary interrupted, looking confused. 

Oh, this wasn’t good. And it was all Max’s fault.

“I’m sorry. Did you say Terry?”

“Yeah. My boyfriend, remember?”

“Actually, you never mentioned his name. I know a Terry, but it’s probably not…”

“Terry McGinnis,” Dana explained, probably thinking that would clear things up.

“Oh, wow, that is so weird.”

“You know him?” Dana asked, confused.

“He works for my grandfather, is all. I don’t really know think I know him very well.”

“Oh.” Dana’s smile was suddenly strained, and Max rolled her eyes. 

Dana had a tendency to get jealous of any girl that Terry hung out with. Projects in high school, group discussions in his online class. Honestly, Max could only half blame her. Terry had been known to find some other girls' company during their off-periods. But then, it was usually Dana who broke up with him, so he was entitled as far as Max was concerned. She generally tried to stay out of it.

Their relationship was complicated, and jealousy was Dana’s only bad trait. With Terry’s flakiness--which actually  _ wasn’t  _ flakiness, but there was no way for Dana to know that--Dana put up with a lot, with a generally good attitude.

Mary saw the change in Dana’s expression and she glanced at Max, confused.

“I’m Max,” she said calmly. “Dana’s friend, Terry’s friend, and I work for Wayne-Powers.”

“Nice to meet you. Um, I hope I didn’t offend--”

“It’s fine,” Dana said shortly. Max raised her eyebrows at her, in a  _ you’re being crazy _ kind of way that she did sometimes, and Dana shook her head. “I’m sorry. It really is fine. Terry just never mentioned you to me and when he doesn’t tell me things I get--it doesn’t matter.”

Mary nodded, but she shot Max a slightly confused glance. 

“We’re going to go,” Dana said, keeping her voice neutral. “We’ll talk later. Maybe we can go out again sometime.”

“Okay,” Mary said. “I’d like that. I’m new here, so… Not many friends, you know?”

“What about the guy you were talking to when Dana rudely interrupted?” Max hoped her question sounded natural, and not too prying.

Mary laughed. “He was an ex I dated when we were both at Atlantic Cape. Not really the company I was hoping to keep.”

“Well, you never know,” Dana said, and she started pulling Max back the way they came. “We’ll talk later.”

Max sighed. That turned out to be mostly pointless, except for a few small details. And now she would have to hear Dana rant about Terry for who knows how long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a sneak peak of next week's chapter: 
> 
> _Bruce extended his arm and opened his closed fist. A small, white earplug rested on his palm, and when Mar’i didn’t take it, he extended his arm even further._   
>  _“Uh, what is this?” Mar’i asked. It was definitely not an earplug. Heavy and cold, unyielding in her hand._   
>  _“It’s an earpiece. It has a GPS broadcaster inside.”_   
>  _“What?” she lifted the object closer to her face to inspect it. “Can--can I turn it off?”_   
>  _Bruce frowned at her, even more than he was frowning before. “No.”_   
>  _She sighed and popped it into her ear. It was cold, and she could hear a faint high-pitched buzz. “I hate it,” she said levelly._   
>  _“Too bad,” Bruce answered, just as levelly._
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in a comment!


	7. Chapter Seven (Mar'i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mar'i's debut night as Nightstar will certainly be one to remember.

The Nightwing suit was staring up at her, rigid in the stasis tube, mask floating in place.

“Hi, Dad,” Mar’i said, and she floated in the air, crossing her legs the way her mother taught her to when she meditated. “Well, _you’re_ not my dad. He’s changed so much since he used to be you.”

The suit, obviously, did not answer her. But she felt like it was listening, so she continued.

“I know that being _you_ isn’t what my dad wants for me. But It’s what I really want for myself. And I think that if I’m really good at doing this, maybe he’ll give me his approval or something. There has to be some part of him that remembers what it was like.”

A fire bloomed from the middle of her chest that she only realized after it started was anger. Her father was making her feel so _bad_ about wanting to do this, hiding half of his life from her, and yet he’d been in her shoes, worn this costume, and done what she wanted to do. And now he was trying to keep her from doing it.

Just because she finally could, she planted both feet on the ground and raised her arm above her head and blindly fired a crackling pink starbolt. As quickly as it had come, the anger was replaced by elation, and confidence in herself as a new hero, and then a stalactite came crashing down pretty close to where she was.

“Did he show you yet?” Terry asked, unbothered by the rock on the ground, and Mar’i was pretty sure he was eating some kind of wrap or maybe a burrito.

“Uh, what?” she asked, startled by his presence. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been there or how much he’d heard.

“Your uniform,” Terry clarified as he chewed.

“Oh, no. Not yet.” Mar’i kicked the rock at her feet awkwardly.

“It looks good,” he admitted, and he licked whatever grease had come out the bottom of his wrap off his hand.

“Wait, you’ve seen it?” Mar’i demanded, flying to get next to him as quickly as possible.

“Well, yeah. Bruce has been working on it all week. It looks good.”

“Can you show me?”

Terry frowned at her. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, without Bruce.”

“What’s not a good idea?”

Mar’i spun around, and as her grandfather came into view, her heart started hammering away in her chest. This was really the beginning. Of what, she wasn't exactly sure, but something freeing, if nothing else.

“Mary's excited to see her costume,” Terry said as he sat in the wide chair in front of the monitors. “I told her it looks good.

Bruce was actually smiling at Mar'i, and she wondered if he was excited to show her his work. “McGinnis,” he said with a nod at Terry, “pull it up.”

“You got it, boss.” Terry typed onto the keyboard and in the center of the area where she and Bruce were standing, a panel on the floor opened up. A flat, metal-looking rectangle slowly rose straight up, and when it flipped ninety degrees, supported by a thin section on the middle, Mar'i realized that it was a table.

And on that table was a pressed, shiny, brand new Nightstar uniform.

Bruce had drawn from her father's uniform, she noticed after a moment. The V that decorated the chest of her father's uniform also decorated hers, and from the v sprang solid purple sleeves, unlike the stripe that decorated the sides the original Nightwing's sleeves. In the center of the V design was a pink gem, and Mar'i wondered if he somehow had pulled it off her mother's only pair of Tamaranean clothes.

Unlike Terry's costume, she didn't have a belt, but she really didn't need one, anyway. Purple paneling extended from her hips down to her knees, and it looked to Mar'i to be only an accent.

Also on the table were knee-high purple boots, a purple choker, and a purple headband with a matching pink gem encrusted in it.

“X'hal, grandpa,” Mar'i breathed. Tears swam in her eyes, and she gently picked up one of the sleeves. It was much heavier than she expected. “Can I put it on?”

Bruce nodded once, and Mar'i picked it up and ran into the locker room, which she suspected Terry rarely even used up until that point since he was the only one changing.

It fit perfectly, which vaguely struck Mar'i as odd, since she hadn't given him her measurements. The uniform zipped easily up the front, and the zipper then tucked into the setting of the gem on her chest. The low cut of the top perfectly outlined the V design, and it was even pretty flattering.

The thick choker was made of metal, and even when Mar'i used her super strength, she couldn't bend it. She didn't know what the heck it was made of, but it seemed to be for protection. It snapped around her neck with a hinge in the back

The boots slid on over her knees, and Mar'i was relieved that not only were they comfortable, but there was no heel in sight, and they even seemed to be made for running.

“Shway,” Mar'i muttered to herself. The only mirror was weirdly elongated and warped, but it was plenty for Mar'i to envision how she actually looked.

Bruce was waiting for her at his regular seat at the computer, and although he was studying her with his usual pokerface, she thought he looked happy.

“Shway!” Terry said, walking toward Bruce with the Batsuit on.

“When did you change?” Mar’i asked, blinking rapidly. “ _Where_ did you change?”

He shrugged. “I got pretty quick at it.”

“Come here,” Bruce said.

She tilted her head at him, wondering what he must have been feeling, and Terry gave her a very slight shrug. Feeling like she was being called to the principal’s office, she approached her grandfather slowly.

When she was close enough, he reached up and unclasped the chain from which her hologram pendant hung. Vibrant green light from her natural eyes mingled with the cold blue light of the monitors, and her grandfather was smiling. It was a small smile, but it suited him.

“There’s my granddaughter,” he said softly, and Mar’i felt her heart swell.

Bruce tipped his head over to the table, where a headband and a pair of armguards were still waiting to be put on.

“Here’s the deal,” Bruce said, addressing both Terry and Mar’i. “We have no big leads right now. No open cases. You are going to take her on your regular patrol route. Explain everything while you do it. Do not let her out of your sight.” He focused his sharp gaze on Mar’i and added, “Do not leave his sight. And wear this.”

He extended his arm and opened his closed fist. A small, white earplug rested on his palm, and when Mar’i didn’t take it, he extended his arm even further.

“Uh, what is this?” Mar’i asked. It was definitely not an earplug. Heavy and cold, unyielding in her hand.

“It’s an earpiece. It has a GPS broadcaster inside.”

“What?” she lifted the object closer to her face to inspect it. “Can--can I turn it off?”

Bruce frowned at her, even more than he was frowning before. “No.”

She sighed and popped it into her ear. It was cold, and she could hear a faint high-pitched buzz. “I hate it,” she said levelly.

“Too bad,” Bruce answered, just as levelly.

Mar’i opened her mouth to say something, but Terry interrupted.

“You’ll get used to it, Mar’i. Oh, sorry--you’ll get used to it, _Nightstar_.” He grinned at her and pulled the cowl over his head. “You know, this is kind of fun. Bruce was running out of things to yell at me about, so now I get to watch him yell at someone else.”

“I was not yelling,” Bruce insisted sourly. “And I have not run out of reasons to yell at you.”

“And you never will.” Terry pulled a single key from his belt and the lights on the Batmobile, parked on its own platform in the sprawling Batcave, flashed once.

“Come on, Nightstar. I need my sidekick.”

“I am _so_ not your sidekick.”

“Don’t be modest. We’re a regular dynamic duo.”

Mar’i sighed, but she was smiling. With one last look at her grandfather, she hurried after Terry.

The Batmobile was more like a tiny spaceship than a hovercar. Terry drove it expertly, although he’d been doing this, what, six years?

Gotham was a dark city, but in spite of its darkness, it was _bright_. Lights from signs and apartments and headlights lit the city even more brightly at night than the sun did during the day. Gotham provided its own light.

“It’s kinda nice to have company,” Terry said after a few decidedly awkward minutes in the car. “I mean, I have Max, sometimes, but it’s different over the phone.”

“--And I ended up _talking_ the Joker into submission! Can you believe that? Doesn’t matter, it’s true. The lesson there is--Bruce isn’t always right.”

Mar’i wasn’t really listening to Terry, and she hadn’t been for a while, but she thought she heard something high pitched and repeated. She couldn’t quite place the sound. “Did you hear that?” she asked Terry, and she was a little embarrassed that her voice sounded sleepy.

“I don’t hear anything. Oh. let me tell you about this one time I--” Terry interrupted himself before he could get really geared up about his next story, and Mar’i was a little thankful. But she could see lights flashing behind the eyes of the cowl and she knew he was adjusting the vision settings. “Woah, woah, hold on.” He maneuvered the Batmobile onto one of the taller rooftops near them and jumped out.

“What?” Mar’i asked, and her heart was pounding.

Terry pressed a button on his belt and the Batmobile became invisible. Well, nearly invisible. Cloaked, really.

Mar’i flew over to him.

“I see blood.”

“Blood?” Her pulse kicked up to an even faster pace.

“Calm down,” Terry said, and Mar’i was surprised that his voice was suddenly unrecognizable. Serious. Very much like Bruce’s. “It might be nothing. It might not be human.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to ruin it or anything but… Are you doing a voice right now?”

“Nightstar. Focus,” Bruce’s voice said through the earpiece, and she jumped. She forgot she was wearing it. “He’s gotten very good at concealing his identity. Something you should probably work on.”

“Okay, I am not doing a voice,” she said, and she was feeling stupid, talking to Bruce through the tiny earpiece.

Terry had engaged the red wings in the Batsuit and he was gliding to another rooftop. Mar’i wasn’t sure where he was seeing blood. Although the signs were bright, the rooftops were mainly dark, and her enhanced vision wasn’t doing as good a job as the Batsuit.

As he starting gliding toward it, she finally noticed he was talking about. It was a small puddle, less than a hundred feet away from. The she followed Terry, who kneeled in front of it and dipper his gloved fingers in it.

“It’s still wet,” he muttered, and it took Mar’i a moment to understand that he was talking to Bruce.

“It’s human,” Bruce said into Mar’i’s earpiece, and by the way he reacted, into Terry’s, too.

“How do you know that?”

Terry glanced at her. “The suit relayed the chemical components, including the DNA, to the computer at the Cave.”

Mar’i glanced at her hands, which were covered by fingerless gloves. “Can my suit do that?”

“No,” Bruce answered.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not a detective.”

That actually hurt her feelings a little. It was true, objectively, but wasn’t the point to turn her into one? What did her grandfather think she was doing here?

“I’m not picking up any other samples,” Terry said, and Mar’i noticed that the cowl’s eyes were once again flashing.

“Wait. I hear it again.”

The flashing stopped suddenly. “Hear what?”

Short, high pitched sounds, almost rhythmic but varied. She couldn’t place it. “I--I don’t know.”

A scraping sound filled her ears, and Terry was tapping the cowl near his ear. “I don’t hear anything.”

The sound started once again, and Mar’i gasped as realization flooded her mind. “Swords! It’s swords! And it’s coming from--!”

As she started to turn away, Terry threw himself in front of her and grabbed her wrist tightly. “Hold on a minute.”

“What--No, we have to go. There’s blood and a _swordfight_ \--”

“Exactly. Think about it. What run-of-the-mill bad guy uses _swords_?”

“Get her _out of there_!” Bruce’s voice was saying directly into her ear.

“L-let go,” she said, and she pulled her arm back. Terry kept his grip tight.

“These are _serious_ bad guys,” Terry said, and he dropped the stupid voice. He seemed, in that moment, like a friend warning her.

“You think. We haven’t even seen who it is yet. Besides, you need me to bring you there.” Mar’i punctuated this statement by forcefully wrenching her arm out of Terry’s grip. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“Nightstar,” Bruce said into the earpiece, and Mar’i impulsively pulled it out of her ear and threw it on the ground.

Looking Terry in the eye, she crushed it under her heel.

“Okay, you know what, that was a very expensive piece of equipment, and now I have to deal with him in my head, yelling, about you--”

“We don’t have time for this. I’m going to figure out where that swordfight is coming from. You can follow me if you want, or you can screw off, I don’t really care either way.” She took off before he could grab her again.

As she flew, she considered that maybe this wasn’t a great idea. Gotham was unfamiliar to her. She could figure out where she was by flying high enough above the city, but right now, among the rooftops, she felt lost.

Terry was right behind her, though, and that was the only thing that was keeping her confident. Which was a good thing, because it would have been really embarrassing to go back.

She saw the flash of some kind of fabric--a cape, maybe?--and then Terry grabbed her once again and gestured for her to be quiet.

He pulled her onto the rooftop below but behind a brick structure, probably stairs leading to the top floor.

“Just listen. These are real bad guys. The Society of Shadows. _Assassins_ , okay? This is not day one stuff.”

“I beat you, remember? If you can fight these guys, I can fight these guys.”

“I wasn’t wearing this suit then. You need a lot more training before you can do this.”

“Then what do you want me to--?”

She was interrupted by a yell, and they both took action.

Two rooftops over, three ninja, for lack of a better word, were fighting one man, dressed in an outlandish green and white outfit complete with a cape. The yell must have come from the man dressed in green. His shoulder was bleeding, and blood was dripping down his arm.

“Wait,” Terry hissed in her ear, but she sprang out from behind the brickwork and lifted into the air. “We don’t know what’s going on!” he shouted, just as she loosed a volley of starbolts at the four.

“Dammit,” he shouted, but Mar’i only heard it distantly. Suddenly, all four were looking at her, and she had to _move._

It seemed that two of them continued to gang up on the one in green, while one decided to take her on.

She was dodging a bola and shooting starbolts, and she even hit him a few times. But the bola wrapped around one of her legs and she crashed down to the roof.

The ninja rushed at her and she crossed her arms over her torso, arm guards out, when Terry jumped in front of her.

Chaos erupted around her. Terry was fighting the ninja that had been attacking her and there were still two fighting the first guy. Mar’i loosed a starbolt at one of them and they blocked it with their sword.

Mar’i had fought against swords on Okaara, and staves, and projectile weapons. It had been a little while, though. She tried to get through the defensive stance by spraying starbolts at his feet, then changing quickly to the torso area, but his sword easily deflected that. She tried flipping over the ninja while shooting starbolts and landing behind him, but he was much quicker than she was.

Mar’i could hear Bruce shouting from inside Terry’s cowl, and she knew that she wasn’t impressing her grandfather.

She dodged quickly, her hair flying up as the ninja made a broad sweep at her with the sword, and she used her flight to propel herself to slide between his legs. He wasn’t fast enough to follow that, and she was able to shoot him right between the shoulders in the back. He staggered forward and she flipped him over onto his back. She was planning on knocking him out with a blow to the head, but a small sound of polished metal against canvas rang in her ears.Suddenly there was a knife in his hand, and Mar’i envisioned it buried in her ribs, or stabbed into her side, and she knew then that she was slagged.

Gloved fingers caught his hand and a green boot was on on his shoulder. Mar’i was still on top of the ninja, so he couldn’t get away.

The man in green pulled fiercely on the ninja’s arm and he screamed, and his arm lay limply on the rooftop, dislocated. Mar’i, still on top of him, punched him squarely in the nose and he passed out.

She looked up at the man, finally actually looking at him.

He was panting, from his own fight and from saving her, but most of his face was covered up. A green hood obscured his features, but she could tell he had dark hair and a dark complexion. A half-mask around his mouth completed his own ninja look. The green hood flowed into a cape, and his clothes were baggy and loose. It looked like some fancy middle-eastern or east-asian clothes.

She stood, suddenly feeling like maybe she should have gotten a domino mask like her father had worn. Her face felt awfully exposed compared to his.

“Thanks,” she said.

He didn’t answer, only continued to observe her. It was disconcerting, but she was worried about Terry now, who was still fighting his ninja.

She turned to help him, but gloved fingers wrapped around her elbow and pulled her back.

“ _Don’t_ grab me,” she warned, but he didn’t move his hand.

“Who are you?” he demanded, and his voice was deep, smooth, and accented in a way that Mar’i could not identify.

“I’m--” she began, and she was going to proudly use her new alias for the first time, but a trail of dark red blood caught her eye and she stopped. The trail led to the corner of the rooftop, where the body of one the three ninja was crumpled limply. She wrenched her arm away so hard that she lost her balance a little. “You--you killed him?”

“Of course.” His eyes were obscured by the hood, but she could tell that he’d drawn his eyebrows together. “They’re assassins.”

“Oh, X’hal.” Suddenly, Mar’i felt dizzy. Black spots were creeping at the sides of her vision. “You k-killed--”

He took her this time by both shoulders and shook her. “Who are you?” he repeated.

_That_ snapped her out of it, and she lit starbolts in her hands and pushed him off. “I _said_ don’t grab me.”

“Listen to me. I’m looking for Batman.”

“You’re looking at him.” Mar’i jerked her head to where Terry had been fighting the third ninja.

They’d vanished. The man in green ran to the edge of the building and looked over the side, and Mar’i floated into the air to look over the side.

She heard it before she saw it, which was lucky because the sound made her move. A knife flew over her shoulder and sunk into the brickwork behind her. The man in green drew his sword with a loud _shing_ and his arm was around Mar’i’s shoulders, roughly pulling her in front of him, her back to his chest, his breath on her neck, and behind his sword. Before she could make sense of the change, the third ninja dropped down in front of them, the stranger’s sword the only thing between him and her.

After getting over her initial shock, Mar’i balled her fingers into a fist and fired a starbolt. It was point-blank, and really should have hit, but these guys were way faster than any human Mar’i had ever seen. He jumped away and fell into a set of handsprings.

“Duck,” the man behind her instructed and he released her from around his arms, and she did just in time to avoid two small knives, which hit the man’s sword from the sound of it.

She was ready to strike back, but the man in green was already there, swords clashing. Mar’i was torn between making sure this last ninja was taken care of and making sure Terry was okay. Crushing the earpiece before seemed like a really big mistake now, and she would wear it without any complaints from now on.

She’d only looked away for a moment, but the clattering of a sword drew Mar’i’s attention back to the fight. As she watched, the ninja drove a knife into the man in green, on the left side, just under his ribs.

He staggered back, clutching the hilt of the knife still in his flesh, and Mar’i swooped in, starbolts blazing. She was sweating now. Terry was gone, her unexpected backup was gone.

She spun a kick at him, powered by flight, and he turned his sword on the side to act as a shield. This is what she was hoping for, and with flight she redirected her kick directly to his hand. He dropped the sword and they were fighting hand-to-hand, which she was much more comfortable with.

She only hoped he didn’t have anymore knives.

She was doing fairly well, taking some punches but getting some in. She was keeping the ninja on his toes by using starbolts aimed at his feet.

A punch had just gotten past her and knocked her in the chin when she staggered back.

Suddenly there was a sword coming through his chest, the tip covered in blood jutting from his body..

She clutched her sore chin as she felt blood drain from her face.

The ninja slumped forward as soon as the sword was pulled out, and Mar’i didn’t realize she’d tripped backward until the man in green was staring down at her. Her ears were ringing, and she faintly knew that she should be very concerned about her own wellbeing right now and managed to scramble backward a little.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, and his voice was oddly clear to her.

She saw a blur of black and red, and she heard the fluttering of a cape, and suddenly he was replaced by Terry, who was offering her his hand. “Nightstar,” he said, and he was hoisting her up. “It’s me.”

“H-He’s dead,” Mar’i managed.

“Yeah I see that. We’re going home.”

Those words helped to ground her, but she still felt sick. Her hands were shaking and her mouth was dry.

They were silent the entire way back in the Batmobile, and when they arrived at the Batcave again Mar’i was still pretty shaken up.

Terry pulled off the cowl and Mar’i noticed a cut over his cheek. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Leave her alone, McGinnis.” Bruce approached them, a water bottle in his free hand. He shoved it at Mar’i and she took it. He led her to the metal exam table near the monitors with a hand on her back.

“I’m fine,” Mar’i said as Bruce hovered next to her.

“You’re white as a sheet. And you have a huge bruise on your face.”

“It’ll be gone by morning.”

“Who was that guy?” Terry demanded. “I’ve never seen three assassins after one target.”

Bruce sat at the monitors and pulled up footage of the rooftop. “He’s an ex-member.”

Terry crossed his arms and stood next to Bruce’s chair. “How do you know that?”

“It’s obvious from the way he used that sword. And that’s the only reason the Society would ever send more than one assassin.”

“So all those people… they were assassins?” Mar’i asked slowly.

Terry and Bruce exchanged a look. “Yes,” Bruce answered.

Obviously, now was not a good time to be asking questions.

“I want you to go back out and find the last assassin. Try to see if you can find the fourth one, but I’m sure he won’t show up again tonight.”

“We’re going back out?” Mar’i asked, and she hopped off the exam table.

“No, Mar’i. Only Terry.”

“What? Why?” She knew why, but she wanted so badly to prove herself.

“You’ll get another chance next week when all this clears up. I don’t want you going out there with the Society of Shadows lurking around Gotham.”

Honestly, she couldn’t really argue with that. She wasn’t happy, but after seeing someone get impaled right in front of her, she could use the break. She wanted to lay in bed with the curtains drawn for a few days.

She didn’t want her grandfather to know this, though, so she stormed out of the Batcave without a word to either one of them.

There was barely anything in the fridge, but all she needed was a bottle of water.

It was probably just her nerves, but Mar’i swore she could hear creaking from beyond the front door.

She snapped the fridge closed and intended to ignore the noise and head up to bedroom, but her heart started beating quickly in her chest. She couldn’t ignore it.

The creaking seemed to be coming from the front porch. Maybe it was a stray dog or feral cat.

Mar’i swung the front door open and she had to resist the urge to immediately slam it shut.

Supporting himself with an arm on the doorframe, the man in green stood before her. He’d taken off his hood, mask and gloves, but the rest of the clothes were the same, and covered in blood. “Hello,” he said conversationally, and she recognized the accent she’d heard earlier. “I’m looking for Batman.”

Mar’i was at a loss for words, but she didn’t have to worry about that for long. He coughed, and when he did, blood stained his lips.

“X’hal, you’re--”

He pitched forward and Mar’i caught him.

“H-Help!” she shouted, and she wasn’t even sure they would hear her all the way down in the Batcave. “Terry! Bruce!”

Almost immediately, Terry was running down the hall toward her. “Oh, hell,” he muttered, and he took the man in green from Mar’i and carried him down to the Batcave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a sneak peak of the next chapter:  
>   
>  _“You could’ve died.”_  
>   
>  _He scoffed at that. She was trying to scare him, or maybe she was looking for gratefulness. “It won’t be the last time.”_  
>   
>  _“You killed two people.”_  
>   
>  _“I’m not sure if you noticed, but they tried to kill me first.”_  
>   
>  Thanks for reading! Please comment and let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter Eight (Damian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian finally gets to meet his father, but Bruce's reaction isn't exactly what he was hoping for.

Cold. Metallic smell. Dampness at his abdomen, his arm. So thirsty. Lights shining over him.

He gasped as he sat up, and as he did wires tangled at his chest and a machine beeped, the alarm branding itself into his brain as he tried to process everything. 

Warm hands were pushing him down, and although his instinct was to fight, a woman’s voice was speaking to him in a soothing tone. 

He shook his head to try to clear it, and he was pushed back into a lying position. 

“Grandpa! He’s awake!”

Words were starting to make sense again. Colors and blurs started to solidify into more defined shapes. 

The woman was an alien, he knew that much as he looked up into solid green eyes. He tried to sit up again but ether he was very weak or she was very strong. 

“Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” she said, not answering his question. “We stitched you up and we have a bag of fluid running, so  _ please _ relax a little.”

He blinked. A blood pressure cuff was tightening around his bicep and wires on his chest seemed to be feeding information to the monitor above him, which had stopped alarming when he was pushed back. A bag with clear fluid in it was running into his right arm. “Am I in a hospital?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Stop talking to him.” The order came from beyond his field of vision, and he strained against the hands holding him down to no avail.

An old man stepped into view, and he was holding a syringe, tapping against the side as he primed it. The needle shone in the lights overhead.

“Wait--please--”

“Grandpa maybe we shouldn’t--”

“He’s too agitated,” the man said. 

He struggled, but the woman was holding him down with such force that he couldn’t move his arms to stop him. “Please--I’m looking for Bruce Wayne--I need to tell him--”

“Shhh,” the woman soothed, and she lifted a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

Whatever sedative they give him was already working, his head was spinning and his mouth was numb. “Wait--” he murmured, but he felt himself falling asleep even as he was fighting.

When he opened his eyes again, he was more oriented. The lighting was the same, bright lights that shone in his eyes. This time he was alone, but instead of springing up like he did before, he tried to study his surroundings first. The monitor was still running, his heartbeat shown on an EKG, his blood pressure at the corner of the screen. The bag of fluid was no longer connected to him. He sat slowly, testing his strength. He felt fine, so he yanked off the wires from his chest, causing the screen to read a flatline. 

He noticed then that the woman who was holding him down earlier was asleep in the chair in front of the monitors. Best not to wake her up yet.

His shirt was bloodstained and torn, sitting on a table a few feet away with rolls of gauze, tape, and a stitch kit. He winced as he put his feet on the floor--the stitches were pulling, and his side was aching. He crept past the monitors deeper into the cave. There were vehicles parked ahead, maybe beyond them led to a path he could escape down.

“Going somewhere?”

He sighed and turned to face his captor. She was standing several yards away, one hand held out in front of her. He remembered her ability to shoot energy from her hands, and thought it prudent to raise his arms, palms out, as a sign of peace. 

“I just want to speak to Bruce Wayne,” he said calmly. 

“Yeah, well, he’s not over there.” She motioned for him to return to the rickety-looking table where he’d spent the night. 

“You know him?” he asked as he complied, and she took up a stride behind him. 

“You’ll get a chance to speak to him.” She picked up her phone and presumably sent a text, then turned her attention back to him. “You could’ve died.”

He scoffed at that. She was trying to scare him, or maybe she was looking for gratefulness. “It won’t be the last time.”

“You  _ killed _ two people.”

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but they tried to kill me first.”

With the loud sound of stone scraping against stone, the wall began moving, and a rectangle of light opened at the top of a flight of stairs.

“I told you not to talk to him.”

An old man came down the stairs with the help of a cane. He looked severe, his expression set in a frown, light blue eyes almost lost against pale skin.

“Bruce Wayne?” he asked. This man would be about the right age, based on what he found out from his mother.

The old man turned to the woman. “Go upstairs.”

“No,” she said, and she crossed her arms and leaned against the keyboard. “I’m staying here.”

“Would you  _ just once _ listen to me?”

“I’m not leaving. I’ll be quiet.”

The man sighed, and raised his hand to his head. “I’m Bruce Wayne. What do you want?”

He swallowed, suddenly finding his mouth very dry. 

Nerves were getting the best of him, which was stupid considering he’d been so sure that this was Bruce Wayne even before the confirmation. Hearing it said out loud affected him unexpectedly. 

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“Listen to me,” Bruce said, and he approached as menacingly as someone with a cane could. “I don’t appreciate you bringing assassins to my city, never mind Society of Shadows members.”

“I do apologize for that. Trust me when I say I thought I was free of them.”

“You should’ve known better. Once they hunt you, you will never be free of them.”

“But I  _ was _ free of them. For six years. I really have a lot to explain, Perhaps you should sit.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Just talk.”

“Ra’s al Ghul is my grandfather. I am the heir to the Society of Assassins. My true name is Damian al Ghul, although my most recent alias has been Perseus de Sang. I’ve been living in Paris these past six years. I never encountered any threats from the Society, I thought perhaps my grandfather had died--”

“Say I believe you,” Bruce said, coming even closer. Damian looked at him with wide eyes. He hadn’t even told him the most important part yet. He had a feeling he knew, though. “And your grandfather is Ra’s al Ghul. Why aren’t you ruling the Society at his right hand?”

“That was my plan. After centuries of using the Lazarus Pits, it seems my grandfather’s body was giving out. He was using the Pit more frequently, falling ill often. My mother discovered that my grandfather had been grooming me not to be his successor, but to hold his soul. He was planning to steal my body. Initially he was going to wait until I turned sixteen, however, his health became worse, and my mother discovered that he was going to steal my body the next day, when I was only twelve. She rushed me out with only a nurse at my side in the middle of the night. But my grandfather caught us, and my mother sacrificed herself to save me.”

Damian raised his eyes to Bruce’s. His expression was unchanged, but Damian was pretty sure the old man was breathing faster. 

“I’ve been alone for years. The last time I saw any assassins from the Society was in the Italian countryside six years ago. They killed my nurse then and I slaughtered at least a dozen, barely escaping with my life, before I changed my name and fled to Paris. They never followed me there.”

“Why are you here now?” Bruce demanded. He seemed irritable, and Damian could tell he was observing him closely.

“My mother died before she could tell me who my father was. I recently came into possession of some of her journals. In those, I found out the truth. The whole truth, in fact, of my father’s identity.”

“And?”

Quietly, in as respectful a tone as possible, Damian said, “I think you know, Mr. Wayne.”

“It’s not true,” Bruce snapped, and he turned his back to Damian. 

“Grandpa?” the woman asked, alarmed. “What--?”

“I’m more than happy to offer my blood for a DNA sample,” Damian offered, holding out his arm.

“I already have some. I don’t need to run it. It’s not true.”

“Grandpa--” she tried again, but Bruce held up a hand to silence her. He turned back to Damian. 

“How long have you been in Gotham?”

“A month,” he answered immediately. He had no desire to lie or hide anything from his father.

“Where are you staying?”

“Uptown. A penthouse. I bought it with my own money two months ago, moved in one month ago. Furnished it from local stores.”

“You must have screwed up  _ something _ . How is it that you’ve been undetected for years, and as soon as you set foot in my city they know you’re here?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. They must have someone on the ground here in Gotham. Or an informant.”

“What’ve you been doing? How have you been making money?”

He scoffed. “My mother was quite rich, as you’ll recall. She had quite a sizeable sum of money set aside in case she ever had to run away from my grandfather. I’ve had access to those accounts. There’s enough for me to live comfortably off the interest.”

“We’ll start with the account. Maybe Ra’s could trace you from those.”

“My mother was no fool. But very well, if it will appease you, I’ll give you all the information you need.”

Bruce grunted and made his way to the stairs. 

“That’s--that’s it?” He wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting, but something more than scrutiny and anger. To say he was let down was an understatement.

“I want you out of my house,” Bruce said as an answer. He took a few stairs, cane clanking on the stone as he climbed, before pausing to add, “And don’t talk to my granddaughter.”

Damian exhaled slowly. He really wished the girl wasn’t here. 

“Look, he was being a jerk,” she said after a few moments of silence.

“No,” Damian said, and suddenly he felt so tired. “It’s completely natural. Trusting me with no reason would be foolish.”

“You saved me from literal death two separate times last night. Is it foolish for me to trust you?”

He wasn’t quite sure who this person was. Or what her opinion of him was. She seemed sincere, but she also seemed frightened of him earlier. “Yes,” he said frankly.

“Oh, well. Someone has to. My name’s Mar’i.” She paused, and at his expression she added, “I’m only telling you because it’s kind of my secret identity.”

He didn’t answer. He was still exhausted, and his ego was badly bruised, and she obviously felt bad for him, which was humiliating.

“Let’s get you some clothes. Your shirt is done for, and you can’t leave the house in a cape and no shirt. Although this is Gotham City, so people might not even notice.”

“Didn’t your grandfather make it pretty clear that he didn’t want you speaking to me?” He asked as he followed her up the stairs. 

She turned to him, inky black hair flowing down her back as her bright green eyes fixed on him sternly. “He’s not my grandfather.”

“Explain. Please.”

“He took my father in when he was a kid and became his legal guardian. They were close, but they had a falling out. I’m trying to kind of rekindle their relationship while also strengthening our relationship. But he’s not  _ really _ my grandfather.”

“But you address him as such.”

“Yeah, I know.” She led him into the changing room, where small lockers lined the wall. “Here, take some of Terry’s clothes. He won’t miss them.”

Terry’s clothes were… unimpressive, to put it nicely. Cheap, untailored, generic. “These are clean, right?”

“Yes,” Mar’i said, and Damian could imagine her eyes rolling. “I’ll give you a minute.”

His body was sore. The puncture wound was aching, and the stitches rubbed uncomfortably against Terry’s shirt as he pulled it on. He was lucky to be alive. 

Luck was only part of it. He’d been trained from a very young age only to let blows get by if they were non-fatal. He knew he wouldn’t die. But only just.

He stepped out of the changing room. Terry’s clothes fit him, although not in the way that his own clothes did. Too tight in the chest, too long in the waist. He’d had to wear his own boots and pull the jeans over them. It looked kind of stupid, but inconspicuous.

“Good, they fit,” Mar’i said as he stepped out, and he frowned at her. “Okay, not a fan.”

The Batmobile pulled up almost directly to them and Batman jumped out without cutting the engine. 

“Everything okay?” Mar’i asked. 

“Get the old man,” he said, and he moved to the passenger side. “We gotta get this guy on ice.” As he spoke, he dragged the body of the third assassin out of its place.

“Preserve the body?” Damian demanded as he stepped up to help. “For what purpose?”

“Find out how he died.” Damian suspected that the suit gave him super powered strength, since he seemed to require no help at all in moving the body. 

“Not necessary. When a Society member fails to complete their mission, they commit suicide with a poison caplet they all carry at all times. Better that then let the Demon’s Head deal with you.”

Batman dumped the body onto the metal exam table before bothering to look at Damian. “Thanks for the inside scoop, but we’ll look into it ourselves, thanks.”

An electric jolt of anger struck him, but he tamped it down. He wanted to gain his father’s respect, and fighting with his underling wasn’t the way to do it. “Do what you please. I believe Miss Mar’i was going to show me the way out.”

She shrugged at Batman and stood to lead him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment and let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9 (Bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mar'i has a hard time coping with her recent lifestyle change. Bruce knew this was going to happen, but he didn't really expect it on day _one_.

Bruce sat in his dimly-lit office. He couldn’t drink anymore with all the medications he was on, but this was one of the rare instances where he  _ really _ wished he could pour himself a nice glass of whiskey. Or even a dry wine, just to take the edge off.

He took a key from a hidden notch on the surface of the desk and used it to unlock a drawer in the side. He scooped the pens, post-its, and other office supplies out of the way and lifted the false bottom to reveal a small collection of manilla folders nested in a filing unit. 

He knew each of the files by heart, didn’t even really need to keep a hard copy but did out of some small, uncharacteristic urge of sentimentality. 

_ Al Ghul, Talia _ , the tab in the corner read, in ink that had faded a bit over the years. One of the genuine loves of Bruce’s life, reduced to a small space in his filing cabinet. The heartbreak he’d endured when Ra’s lured him to the pit, coming face to face with Talia once again only to have the rug pulled out from under him, was something he had an  _ extremely _ difficult time letting go of. And now he was feeling it again, although to a smaller degree. 

Poor Talia, dead without a proper burial, without his knowledge, without anything to remember her by.

Well, until now.

Bruce was angry. He was mad about the entire situation, on many different levels, but he was also feeling vulnerable, and that made him so, so blindingly angry. Talia was a weak spot for him, something Ra’s knew and wasn’t shy about exploiting. 

The truth was, he’d already performed a DNA test on the boy. Damian, he’d claimed. It already came back as a match to his own DNA. Bruce already drew the conclusion that he was Talia’s son. He’d known this before he went down to the Batcave.

It felt too much like a play.

Yes, the boy had almost died. Quite literally. His blood pressure was tanked when he arrived to the Batcave covered in blood. Bruce had saved his life last night, he was sure of that. That was all very real. On the surface, it didn’t seem characteristic of Ra’s al Ghul to risk the life of his only heir just to get to Bruce. But underestimating Ra’s al Ghul was far too dangerous, and a mistake Bruce would not make again.

There was also the possibility that the boy was being used by Ra’s without even knowing. 

Bruce thought of his old friend J’onn J’onzz. His mind powers would be a blessing to Bruce now. Perhaps Clark would be able to find him with his connections with the Justice League--

No. Bruce would need to do some good, old fashioned detective work. He’d need to come up with a plan.

The boy seemed more than willing to sit down with Bruce, he could interview him then. An interview wouldn’t give him all the answers he needed, and if he was working with Ra’s, he would have prepped him with all the information he would need to pass Bruce’s careful scrutiny.

Even more than he wanted the whiskey, he wanted to speak to Talia. 

How could she keep a  _ child _ from him? His own flesh and blood? What had Ra’s done to him? Even if he was treated like a prince, growing up and being raised among assassins must have been a trial. Surely she must have known it would have been better to keep the boy with Bruce, to hide him from Ra’s and his barbaric Society.

A soft knock at the door tore Bruce away from his melancholy thoughts. Mar’i, still dressed in her Nightstar uniform, was in the threshold, looking somber.

“He’s gone,” she said simply.

Bruce nodded at her with a grunt and looked down at the file once more.

McGinnis would have known that he was busy and left him alone, but Mar’i lingered, looking at him with bright, wide eyes. 

Bruce put the file down and looked up at her. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m just. A little shaken up. Three people are dead now.”

Ever since she was a little girl, Mar’i had been preoccupied with death in a way that concerned her father. She used to cry and cry, afraid that Dick would get shot on the job, afraid that ‘bad guys’ would come for her. 

Bruce understood her fear. When he was a child, trying to understand his parents’ deaths, he’d had a similar preoccupation. He always spoke to her frankly about death when she asked about it, something that bothered her father immensely, but Bruce was of the belief that if she was to come to terms with the very real concept of death, then they needed to be up front with her and give her time to process that.

“Three  _ assassins _ ,” he reminded her gruffly. 

“Yeah, I know. But they were still people. They might’ve had families, or--”

“They didn’t. No one in the Society has families. They’re nothing but tools to be seen as Ra’s sees fit.”

“If no one has families, then why was he even born?”

There was so much she didn’t know about their world. Bruce gestured to the chair in front of the desk, and Mar’i floated slowly to it and sat. 

“According to his story, Damian was born to be used as a tool. And he’s facing the consequences of not living up to his use.”

“That’s… so messed up,” Mar’i muttered with a shake of her head. 

“Comes with the territory of being an assassin,” Bruce remarked. 

“Do you think he really think he’s your son?”

Mar’i was always asking questions. It was annoying him just a little right now, but it was something he always loved about his granddaughter. He tried his best to emulate the patience his father always had with him when he was young. 

“I don’t know,” he lied. “And even if he is, I’m not so sure that it’s necessary for him to be in my life.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she considered this shortly. “But it’s necessary for me to be in your life?”

He frowned at her. “What on Earth do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… We were kind of, reconnecting, you know? And now your long-lost son pops up, or something, and suddenly that feels way more important to me than our relationship. Which I actually think is pretty good right now. So I feel like maybe that should get put on the back burner and you should get to know Damian.”

She seemed nervous, but very sincere. She reminded him very much of Kory when she spoke. 

“Mar’i,” he sighed, not sure of where to start. “You’re very important to me. You always have been. Just because you’re not related to me by blood doesn’t make our relationship any less important to me.”

“Okay,” she said, and it warmed Bruce’s heart slightly to see that she looked relieved. 

“The thoughts I have about… ‘Damian’ are very complicated and I need time to organize them. What’s most important to me right now is making sure that the Society of Shadows aren’t a threat to you, Terry, or anyone in Gotham. And that’s what I’ll be focusing on.”

She nodded, her lips pressed together thoughtfully, but that seemed to satisfy her. 

“Would you like to see a picture of Damian’s mother?” Bruce asked. While she was here, he might as well educate her on the Society. 

She smiled and nodded eagerly, and Bruce lifted an old black and white photo from the file. Mar’i held it gingerly, pleased that he was sharing it with her. “She was beautiful.”

Bruce nodded. “She was. I loved her.”

Mar’i’s eyes veritably sparkled. He chuckled at that. She probably never thought he’d admit something like that to her. 

“She was very dangerous, though. Easy to underestimate. This is Ra’s,” Bruce told her as he handed her another photo, this one treated less gently. “Hundreds of years old. Not to be trusted.”

“And you fell in love with his daughter.”

Bruce frowned at her. “It’s complicated. She wasn’t a bad person.”

“It’s always complicated.”

He took the photos back from her. “I want you to read up on the Society. The computer in the Cave has several files on them. You need to be prepared for what’s going to happen.”

“What  _ is _ going to happen?” she asked, worried. 

Bruce studied her for a moment. He didn’t want to scare her. But he also didn’t want to shelter her too much. He’d never done that in the past, and he wasn’t about to start. The lack of knowledge wouldn’t help her. 

“I don’t know. Nothing good,” he said grimly.

“And you’re not pulling me out?”

“Considering it. But I think we need all the help we can get.”

“I’m not going to let you down,” Mar’i said breathlessly, smiling.

Bruce's frown made her pull the smile back. “It’s not about letting me down or not. It’s about you being prepared to do what you have to do to help Gotham and all the people in it.”

She nodded, wide-eyed, and he closed the manilla folder and placed it in its spot. 

“I believe you have some research to do.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. And then a nap.”

Bruce waited until she left before he took a new manilla folder from a box he kept in a different cabinet and labeled it  _ al Ghul, Damian _ . 

On a crisp piece of paper--thicker than normal, but not quite cardstock, printed by one of the smaller companies supported by Wayne-Powers--Bruce used his favorite fountain pen that he used for important documents for the past forty years to write up a quick summary and some notes.

Here’s what he knew about his supposed son: 

He’d been groomed by Ra’s al Ghul directly. He’d killed  _ at least  _ dozens of people. Probably many more. He’d killed three yesterday without blinking, so that number could realistically be over a hundred.

He claimed to have successfully hidden from the Society for years. That took immense skill. 

He had assets, globally, enough to survive on his own from the time he was twelve and still have a considerable fortune.

Ra’s was looking for him. Knew he was in Gotham. Knew he’d killed three of his own assassins. Since Curare killed some of the big players in the Society some years back, Bruce wasn’t as familiar with the ranks. But he was sure that worse was going to be coming.

A wave of anxiety, unfamiliar to him after years of weathering through very messy situations, swept through him and he could feel his chest tightening painfully. He closed his eyes against it, and it was Mar’i he saw against his closed lids; her eyes, her smile, her voice filling his mind. She was in danger, with assassins lurking in his own city, and he was very concerned for her. Maybe keeping Batman from Mar’i was something Bruce participated in more willingly than he thought, comforted by her ignorance without realizing it.

In yet another drawer, a dark tube of medication was nestled among other equipment, and he grabbed it and popped it open, and put one of the pills under his tongue. He gripped the side of his desk for a minute before the medication started to work, and he could feel his chest loosening, his breath coming easier.

He thought of the Lazarus Pit, of the changes his body experienced after only partial immersion. That was the problem with Ra’s al Ghul. He was evil, but now in his old age more than ever, Bruce was tempted by the pits. 

The pill bottle went back into its drawer, the new manilla folder he slipped into place next to his file on Talia. Clearly, he needed a break. He needed to come up with a plan, prioritize what needed to be done. He needed to spend some time with his granddaughter while he still could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment and let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter Ten (Terry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dana's brother has an eventful last day before rehab. Terry is finding it hard to focus on his protoge.

Terry’s phone vibrating somewhere in his room woke him, and from the broken slat in the blinds covering his window he had just enough light to actually find it.

He snoozed the alarm and dropped his phone down, probably losing it in his sheets somewhere.

Last night was rough. And, honestly, he was still wrapping his head around it. The details weren’t very clear to him as he hadn’t been properly briefed by Bruce yet, but on  _ this _ episode of  _ Days of Our Lives: The Batman Edition _ , Bruce had a son. And that son was some crazy assassin. Except that he wasn’t, and now the assassins were trying to murder him. 

That was all the detail he really needed to work with right now.

Bruce still wanted him to work with Mar’i, which Terry wasn’t exactly expecting. He must have thought it was safer for her to be with him than on her own and forbidden from using her powers again. Reasonable, he supposed. 

The plan for tonight was going to be recon. Scope the area from last night, see if they could figure out what Damian was up to when the attack struck, try to find out if there were any more assassins coming after them, try to figure out how the Society might have been alerted to Damian’s appearance in Gotham.

A lot of actual detective work, which Terry didn’t actually like as much as the more action-oriented parts of the job, but you couldn’t have one without the other, and even Bruce admitted that he picked up detective work pretty well, and was even good at now.

He’d actually wanted to go to school for forensic science or criminal justice, but it made more sense with his secret identity of Bruce’s crummy assistant to go for business. Besides, he didn’t have the time to do the labs for forensic science.

When his alarm went off again, he was a little more awake. He had a few texts from Dana, one complaining about the volume of her brother’s TV, one telling him she missed him, one telling him about an email she’d gotten from a professor. He also had one from Mar’i asking about what time they would meet in the Batcave, one from Max that didn’t have any text on the notifications bar and was probably a meme. 

He needed to get some guy friends. 

He pushed himself away from his mattress, regrettably, already dreaming about falling back into his bed in the morning. 

His mother had put some lasagna she’d cooked earlier that week in the oven, and Matt was already eating a slice when Terry made it to the kitchen table. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Matt said around a mouthful of red sauce. 

“Did you go on that date yet?” Terry asked as he spooned lasagna onto a plate. There was no date, he just wanted to get his mom on Matt’s case. 

“Wha--”

“Date?” Mary asked, smiling. “Matty, you didn’t tell me about a date!”

Matt glared at Terry. “There’s no date, Mom.”

“No, that girl from bio lab, you were telling me.”

“What’s her name?” Mary asked, clearly getting excited. 

“There’s no girl, Mom!”

That should keep Matt busy for at least the next two weeks. 

“Thanks for dinner, Mom,” Terry said as he stooped to kiss his mother’s cheek.

“Going already?”

“Yeah, sorry. There was a big emergency with one of Mr. Wayne’s new employees, so we were figuring that out. Still a lot to get done.”

“Do you want to take some lasagna for him? It’s reheated but it always tastes better the second day.”

“Thanks, Mom, but Mr. Wayne can’t eat sauce because of his acid reflux.”

“Well, okay. Have a good night.”

The Manor itself was empty, which was rare since Mar’i had moved in, but he found that it was because she was in the Batcave.

Bruce had her doing training drills, attacking a life-sized training dummy. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail and she was sweating.

“Yikes,” Terry said as he approached them. Bruce was serious about this. Terry didn’t blame him, but he felt kind of bad for Mar’i. 

Mar’i stopped then and turned to face him, panting, and swept her bangs away from her face. She looked pleased to see him.

“We can stop now, right? You said when Terry gets here--”

“He got here early,” Bruce said.

Terry raised his eyebrows.

“Fine,” Bruce sighed. “Go change into your uniform.”

She nodded and left them, heading to the locker room and the shower. 

“You know, they say cramming isn’t a good way to study,” Terry remarked. 

“It’s not cramming. She has the skills and the training, she’s just rusty. She needs a brush up.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Terry said doubtfully. 

“Besides. You saw her yesterday. She wasn’t ready. What else can I do?”

“I did see her yesterday. I saw her not die.”

“Barely,” Bruce interrupted. 

“Yeah, but barely is good enough. I  _ barely _ passed high school, but I passed, and now I’m in a bachelor’s program.”

Bruce frowned at him and rolled his eyes. “That I paid to get you into.”

Terry shrugged. “It worked out.”

“You know how big this can get,” Bruce said irritably.

“Yeah, I know. All I’m saying is that you can’t shove a week’s worth of training into one day. Has she slept?”

Bruce shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to get her to quit.” 

“Good thing you know better.”

Terry held his gaze, Bruce’s stern look not bothering him much. 

It really wasn’t Terry’s direct business whether or not Mar’i joined their little team, but she was good people, and he didn’t want Bruce making her feel bad. Besides, he’d be lying if the thought of having a partner wasn’t appealing. Maybe he could take off on weekends or something.

“You know I can  _ hear _ the two of you,” Mar’i told them as she emerged in her Nightstar uniform, sliding her headband into her curls to rest at her hairline. 

“Get changed, McGinnis,” Bruce said gruffly.

Bruce was messed up from this, Terry could tell. The old man was hard to read, but Terry had gotten pretty good at it. He was anxious, trying to be careful when it came to Mar’i. And he probably should be. But that gave Terry the opportunity to play the good cop, which came way more naturally to him anyway.

He and Mar’i took off after Bruce ran everything by them--find out if there were more assassins coming or already in Gotham, recon the area from the previous day, see if they could get any information on Damian. 

Bruce gave Mar’i a new earpiece, which she took without complaining this time. 

They were off shortly after, and on the ride into the city, Terry thought he’d try more of his good-cop strategy on her. “Things are a little crazy right now. Not a good time to come in. But I think you’re doing pretty well.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Mar’i gave him a tight smile and continued to look out the passenger window. 

“Everything okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah, fine. I just, I don’t know. This is a lot. And it’s what I want, it’s just. A lot. I’m good, I swear.” She smiled at him again, and this time it looked more natural.

“I'm not the best with like… feelings and shit,” Terry admitted, “but if you ever want to talk to me about stuff, I'm an okay listener, according to Dana.”

Mar'i tilted her head at him. “Dana?”

“Yeah. My girlfriend.”

Mar'i was about to say something but she was interrupted by Max's voice coming out of the speakers of the Batmobile. “Terry! Where the  _ hell _ have you been?”

“What do you mean? Am I in trouble?”

“We've been calling your phone. You're in the Batmobile? You have to go over to Dana's.  _ Now. _ ”

Immediately, Terry swung the Batmobile around and changed course. 

“What happened?” he demanded. His voice dropped even though there was no one around to put on the Batman voice for. At this point, it was more a force of habit when things got serious.

“It’s Doug. He was supposed to go to rehab on Monday, but he was trying to leave the house. Dana tried to stop him and he punched her.”

“He  _ what?!”  _ Terry roared. He increased the speed in the Batmobile, a little recklessly but it was fine.

“She’s been calling you. You suited up? I think you should go as yourself, McGinnis.”

“Is she okay?” Terry asked, and he propelled the car forward. Bruce was usually in his ear by now, but he must have known better. “Did she call the cops?”

“She didn't call the cops. She called you.”

He swore under his breath. “How long ago?”

“It's only been like, fifteen minutes.”

They were down the street from her house when Terry parked the Batmobile, and Mar'i grabbed his arm before he could leap out.

“Put on some street clothes. I'll stay in uniform.”

He yanked the cowl off his head. They were right. It wouldn't make sense for Batman to come barreling in when she hadn't even called the cops yet.

“You need to find Doug,” Terry told her, and she nodded vigorously. “Asian, shaved head. I'm not even sure if he's a member of the Jokerz, but he wants to be.”

Mar'i got out of the car while Terry changed quickly, and she picked him up to fly the short distance to Dana's house.

She dropped him in the front, then flew around the back to see if Doug was still there.

“Dana!” Terry shouted as he knocked on the front door. “Dane! It's me!”

Several locks clicked and the door swung open. Dana's left eye was swollen and red, and she pulled him into the house quickly.

She was crying.

“Doug just f-flipped out,” she said, tears falling. 

“Where's your dad?”

She started crying harder, and Terry's heart dropped.

“What happened, Dana?” He squeezed her shoulders to convey his urgency to her. 

She pointed past them, into the living room, and Terry saw Mr. Tan lying in a heap on the ground. He ran over to him and, avoiding glass fragments from what used to be a vase Doug must have smashed over his head, and checked his pulse at the carotid artery. He had a pulse, which was good, but there was no telling what other damage had been done.

“You didn't call the cops? Or an ambulance?”

Dana looked at him with wide, glassy eyes. Tears were still falling down her cheeks. He took a breath and calmed himself down--she was looking to him for guidance and he tried his best to act like a warmer, fuzzier version of Bruce. Bruce was always good in a crisis.

“It's okay. He's alright for now, but when someone gets knocked out, you need to get them to an ER to check for a concussion. I'll call.”

He picked up the landline and dialed 911. “Yeah, I'm at 1549 Riverside. My girlfriend's dad was knocked out by her brother. A vase. And she's been punched in the face. We'll be here. Thanks.”

“Okay. They're sending an ambulance and some cops will probably show up, too. You should press charges, Dana.”

Fresh tears spilled down her face. “He just needs rehab,” she said, her voice shaking. “He was afraid to go, that's all.” 

Terry pulled off his jacket and put it around her shoulders, just because it always seemed to comfort her. “He's getting more violent,” he told her softly. “He never hurt you before. And maybe it was a one-time thing, but Dane, look what he did to your dad. He needs more than rehab.”

She nodded at him, still crying. “I don't want him to go to jail.”

He absolutely could not relate to that, but he tried for her sake. “Maybe they'll get him some counseling, or something.” 

She pulled his jacket tighter around her body and nodded. “Okay. You'll stay with me, right?” 

“Of course.”

Terry was itching to find out if Mar’i had found Doug, and if not, he desperately wanted to suit up again and kick whoever’s ass needed to be kicked until he found Doug.

He opened his phone and sent a quick text to Bruce explaining that he would need a few hours at least.

It wasn’t a good time for him to need the night off, but Bruce could suck it for all Terry cared just then. 

Besides, all they were doing was investigative work. Bruce should be able to coach Nightstar through at least that much. 

Two cops showed up first. They took Dana into the kitchen, away from Terry, to ask her some questions.

An ambulance showed up, red and blue lights flashing through the curtains, and two EMTs came into the living room. 

“Vital signs are stable,” one of them told Terry. “He may have a concussion, though. We’re going to take him to Mercy West to get an X Ray or CT.”

Terry nodded. “We’ll come over there when she’s done,” he said, gesturing toward the kitchen.

He busied himself by cleaning up the shattered vase, and when he finished that, he snuck into Doug’s room.

The door was locked, but Terry picked it easily with a small kit he kept on hand. 

His room was dark. The shade was pulled down and heavy curtains were hung over the windows and pulled shut. There wasn’t anything personal that Terry could see. No pictures or posters or knick-knacks. Everything was neat, the bed was made, no dirty clothes around. A large desktop sat on a desk in front of the window, and Terry sat at it. 

Max would probably be able to pull any info they needed off of this thing. 

Terry sat at it, just to see, and he was surprised to find that there was no password required to log on. Nothing conspicuous on the home screen, just the generic background. 

He opened up the Documents folder and that was when he was prompted to type a password in.

Terry strongly suspected he had joined the Jokerz, officially, at some point in the past month or so.

“Terry?” Dana called, and he logged out of the computer. 

“I’m coming,” he answered, and he closed Doug’s door behind him. 

He sent a quick text to Max asking her to come and rip the info from Doug’s computer so they could look at it at the Cave. 

Dana looked concerned to find her father gone, but Terry led her to the door with a hand on her back, careful not to close it. 

“They took your father to Mercy West,” he told her, and with a last look inside the townhouse, he pulled to door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
